Pull Me Back
by purplepagoda
Summary: Years after the coin toss, and things aren't as either of them expected. Can Harm and Mac overcome the obstacles that life has set in their path? Will this be the time that they finally call it quits?
1. Miles Apart

She lies in the king sized bed in their master bedroom. She lies on her side, facing the window, staring at the red digits of the alarm clock that is strategically positioned on her bedside stand. The room is nearly silent, void for the sound of the ceiling fan whirring overhead, and breathing, hers, and her husband's. She lies at the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He lies on the other side of the bed, facing the door. He lies on his side, facing the door. He's as close to the edge as he can get. He lies awake, looking at the wall. He listens to the sound of her breathing. Knowing, that tomorrow brings another bitter goodbye, he contemplates voicing what they have allowed to remain unsaid. He exhales, and wonders if he's let things go too far.

She shifts her focus to the window as she hears thunder approaching. Soon the rain begins banging against the window pane. The lightening cracks outside the window, and the thunder isn't too far off. As she listens to the sound of the storm outside her windows her thoughts quickly shift to her marriage, and the storm that has been brewing within the four walls of this room. A storm that she's been trying to keep at bay for too long. She feels the tension, and the strain with every passing second. She can tell he feels it too, with every breath that he takes. She considers telling him what she's been thinking for a while. The thought has been hanging around for too long to ignore it. She wants to tell him that this isn't working.

He feels her shift, rolling onto her other side. He feels his heart pounding, in anticipation of what she's about to say. He knows that she can only be pushed so far, and she's close to her breaking point. He has been waiting for her to call it quits for months. Too prideful to admit his wrongdoing, he waits for her to call it quits. He exhales, and rolls towards her. As the lightning flashes outside of the window he glances at her face. He swallows hard, waiting for her to verbalize what he knows she's been feeling.

She glances up at him with honey colored eyes, "Don't go," she whispers.

As the thunder cracks her stoic façade shatters. In a rare moment of weakness her vulnerability shows through. He places his hand on her face. He cradles her chin with the palm of his hand. He presses his lips against hers, and for a moment he forgets all the obstacles. He pushes aside all of the memories of the hurdles that they've faced together. In that moment all that either of them can think of is being together.

In the morning the sun shines brightly. She is awake before her alarm begins to chirp. She awakens, tangled in eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. She takes a deep breath, and opens her eyes. She lies on her side, facing the door. She finds the other side of the bed empty. She sighs in defeat. She proceeds to get out of bed, slipping his white t-shirt on over her head in the process. On the way out the door she pulls on her pajama pants. She exits the room, and head downs the stairs. She finds him headed for the door.

"Harm," she whispers.

He turns and meets her glance. He stops short of the door, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't want to wake you," he insists.

"You didn't want to say goodbye," she replies, bitterly.

"It is work, I have to go. You know that. If I had my choice I would stay."

"You always have a choice," she responds, with a hint of anger in her voice.

"Sarah, please don't do this."

She purses her lips, and the look in her eyes tells him that he's pushed her too far. The expression on her face tells him that he's looking at a woman whose let go. She swallows hard.

"If you walk out that door, don't expect to come back," she says laying things out in simple terms.

"Sarah…"

She cuts him off, "I can't do this anymore. More importantly, I won't. I deserve more."

He takes a step towards her, noting that she looks as if she's about to cry. He wants to comfort her. She extends her hand, pressing her hand against his chest, to literally keep him at arm's length.

"Don't. Just go."

He clenches his jaw, conceding to her will. He nods, and keeps a stiff upper lip, as he turns to go. She watches him go, for the last time, she vows to herself. He makes it to his car, slamming the door behind him, before it hits him. He puts the key in the ignition and grips the steering wheel with both hands. The tears begin to fall.

Inside she climbs the stairs, alone in their four bedroom house, the one that they planned, and built together. It's Saturday, and she isn't due at work. She has no plans. She reaches the top of the stairs, and hesitates outside the first door on the right. She pivots in the direction of the door. She stands frozen in front of the wooden door. It glares back at her, taunting her. She hasn't been inside that room in over a year. She takes a deep breath, and steps towards it. She grips the doorknob. She twists the knob, and pushes the door open.

She doesn't reach to her left to flip on the light switch. The natural lighting from the window situated in the center of the far wall illuminates the room. She takes a deep breath, and surveys the room. The walls are green. To her left sits a glider, and a changing table. In front of her there is a crib full of clothing. The room is full of unopened boxes, and empty promises. She turns to her right. An open closet door catches her eye. She stares at a closet full of baby clothes. She feels her heart breaking all over again at the shattered dreams that surround her in this room.

She lowers herself to the floor. For the first time in a long time she allows herself to feel it all. In a t-shirt that smells like her husband she sits there engulfed by emotion. The tears begin to fall. They continue to flow until she's sobbing. She pulls her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly.


	2. Separate Lives

Monday morning rolls around, and duty calls. Any sense of feeling sorry for herself is left at the threshold as she leaves the house. She makes a beeline for the car. She arrives to work exactly on time. She quickly maneuvers through the bull pen. Someone calls out, "Attention on deck." She mutters, "At ease," in response as she maintains her path. She enters her office, and closes the door behind her. She sinks into a large leather chair, behind her massive wooden desk. Her yeoman is on the intercom within seconds.

"General MacKenzie, your real estate agent is on the phone."

"Tell her that I'll call her back later," she responds.

"Also, ma'am your husband called."

"Tell him that I'm not in."

"I did. He's already called three times this morning."

"I just got in the building three minutes ago."

"He has called three times in five minutes."

"I don't want to talk to him," she explains.

"What do you want me to tell him?"

"Just hang up on him."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Anything else, Harrison?"

"I would like to remind you that you have a meeting with SecNav at oh nine hundred, ma'am."

"I am aware."

"That is all."

"Thank you," she gladly ends the conversation.

* * *

In his hotel room, halfway across the room Harm throws his phone at the wall. The sound of it crashing to the floor nearly obscures the sound of someone knocking on his door. He moves away from the window, and moves towards the door. He looks at his watch, and grips his weapon as he looks through the peephole. He finds Clayton Webb standing on the other side. He unlatches the door, and opens it. A young man, in a charcoal suit stands next to Clayton. Harm furrows his brow.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for moral support," Clayton explains.

"Moral support?" He questions.

The gentleman standing next to Clayton steps forward. He hands Harmon an envelope. He makes eye contact, "You've been served," he informs, and then steps back. Harm watches in confusion as the man heads down the hallway.

"Is this…"

Clayton cuts him off, "Not in the hallway."

Harmon nods, and retreats to his hotel room. Clayton closes the door on his way into the room.

"You should have a seat," Clayton advises.

Harm glances at the envelope, "You know what this is about?"

Clayton grins momentarily, "I know everything."

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I'm here for moral support."

"You don't think that I can handle this mission on my own?"

"Sit," he demands.

Harmon pulls a chair out from underneath the table in the room. He takes a seat. Clayton folds his arms across his chest.

"Webb?"

"Rabb, why do you do this?"

"Work?"

He shakes his head, "Refuse to admit when you're wrong."

"How am I wrong? I am here on the mission that you asked me to do."

"You're making a mistake."

"What mistake?"

"You have a million opportunities. You had other job offers."

"What is your point?"

"Ones that are closer to home."

"Why are you bringing this up?"

"Do you know what's in that envelope?"

Harm shakes his head, "No, but I have a feeling that you do."

"Mac called me last night."

"She doesn't answer my phone calls," he responds in a bitter tone.

"She asked me for a favor."

"To make sure that I got this envelope?"

"Harm, she filed for separation."

"I don't understand."

Clayton shakes his head, "You don't understand? All she wants is you. She just wants you with her. Why is that so damn hard for you to understand?"

"She pushes me away every damn chance that she gets."

"Didn't she ask you to stay?"

"Why do you care?" He raises his voice.

"Because you made a mistake. She is your wife. How many times have you walked away from her, when she needed you? Did you really think that she would stick around when you can't seem to stay home?"

"She knew what she was getting herself into when she married me."

"A year ago you were supposed to become parents…"

Harmon cuts him off, "I don't want to talk about this."

"You never talk about it. You never even acknowledge it. The two of you were finally going to get the family that you wanted. Then the adoption fell through."

"Why does everyone keep bringing this up?"

"The next day you were on a plane halfway across the world. You asked for a six month mission in Africa."

"That was my way of dealing with things."

"What about Sarah?"

"She didn't want me around."

"You know that isn't true."

"Did you ever consider the fact that maybe I couldn't face her?"

"Did you ever consider her feelings?"

"It was my fault. We didn't get that baby, because of me."

Clayton furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

"I stopped by the hospital. The birth mother told me that she decided to go with another couple at the last minute, because she was afraid that I wouldn't be around enough, because I travelled too much."

"When are you ever going to get over yourself? The whole damn world isn't about you."

"Excuse me? Where do you get off lecturing me?"

"You weren't there."

"She hated me," he insists, "She was angry with me."

"She only ever blamed herself."

"What?!"

"She blamed herself for the two of you not being able to conceive, and she blamed herself for the adoption falling through."

"I didn't know that."

"How could you? You're never around when she needs you."

"I love her."

"You should have realized that ten missions ago. It's too late now."

"She is my wife."

"You haven't been a good husband."

"I…"

Clayton cuts him off, "It doesn't matter what excuse you have. She doesn't want excuses. She just wants to be done."


	3. I Wake Up Loving You

He exits the plane, and walks through the airport. He grabs his luggage from the baggage claim. He proceeds towards the exit. As he grows closer to the exit it hits him, for the first time that she's not waiting on him. He exits the airport, and heads to his car. He tosses his luggage in the back. The March air is crisp. He opens the driver's side door, and takes a seat. He places the key in the ignition. He is dressed in civilian attire. He wears a grey long sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. His eyes fall upon the silver chain around his neck. He lifts the dog tags out of his shirt. The gold band at the end of the chain makes him pause. He takes the ring off the chain, and returns it to his finger. He glances to his right, at the unoccupied passenger's seat. He can't take his eyes off the folder lying on his seat. He knows what's inside. The legal documents enclosed inside the manila folder are marked in each place that he's supposed to sign. He's been dragging his feet about signing the dissolution of marriage papers for months. It has been six and a half months since he's been stateside. Six and a half months since he's seen Sarah.

She enters the house after her morning jog, wearing an oversized USMC hoodie, and a pair of black exercise pants. Her unusually long hair is pulled into a pony tail. She heads to the fridge, and grabs her water bottle. Her cell phone lies on the kitchen counter top. It vibrates. She glances at the caller ID, but chooses to ignore it. When it stops vibrating she checks to see if she's missed any important calls. She rolls her eyes, upon seeing six missed calls from her soon to be ex-husband.

He drives towards Falls Church, wondering why she's refused to go to mediation. She refuses to take his phone calls. He refuses to sign the papers, despite the fact that she has agreed to any terms that he proposes. He pulls into the JAG HQ parking lot. He grabs a parking lot, and proceeds into the building. They give him a visitor pass, and he proceeds.

In the bullpen he doesn't find any familiar faces. He presses forward towards the JAG's office. A yeoman greets him at the door.

"Can I help you?"

"I am…"

"Sir, I know who you are."

"I'm here to see General MacKenzie," he explains.

"She's not here," the yeoman insists.

"I don't buy it."

"She truly is not here."

"She probably ordered you to say that."

"It would be difficult for her to order me to do anything."

"Because she's not here?"

"She is no longer with us."

"She's no longer with JAG?"

"That is correct," the yeoman nods.

"You're telling me that JAG allowed a one star general to slip through their hands?"

The yeoman furrows his brow, "No, sir."

"What are you saying?"

"Mister Rabb, she isn't with the marines anymore."

"Who is she with?"

"She is a civilian."

"A civilian? She would not do well in civilian life. What happened?"

"She retired," the yeoman explains.

Harmon scoffs, "She retired?" arching an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"You are welcome to speak with Admiral McGregor."

"Who is that?"

"Her replacement."

"Where is General MacKenzie?"

He shrugs, "Have you tried calling her?"

"I thought that we had established that she doesn't answer my phone calls."

"Maybe you could try her house."

He pulls onto a suburban street, fifteen minutes later. He stops outside their home. He pulls into the driveway, and puts the car into park. He stares at the for sale sign in the yard. He dials her number, again.

She sits at the kitchen island, reading the newspaper. Her phone sits next to her. It vibrates. She reads the paper, and continues to ignore it. He hangs up when her phone goes to voice mail. He proceeds to send her a text message. In frustration she lifts the phone off the counter, and unlocks it. She reads the text message. _I know that you're home. I am looking at your car. I'm sitting in the driveway._ She decides to give in, hoping that it will prevent her from actually having to have a face to face conversation with him. She dials his number. He answers her after one ring.

"How do you know that I'm not bluffing?" He answers.

"Because I saw you pull into the driveway."

"I went to JAG to look for you."

"I'm not there," she states the obvious.

"I heard a rumor that you retired."

"That is not a rumor."

"I have a hard time believing that you retired."

"I think that thirty years of dedication is enough."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Sarah, you really expect me to sign divorce papers, without having a face to face conversation?"

"I expect you to be an adult and sign the damn papers."

"Without a sit down?"

"Harm you can have whatever you want."

"You put the house up for sale?"

"It's in my name," she reminds him.

"We need to talk."

"So talk."

"Face to face."

"No."

"Please," he begs.

"I have given you enough chances."

"I'm coming in," he insists.

"I think that you will find that difficult."

"Do you have a security guard?"

"I change the locks, and the code to the alarm."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why are you being an asshole? Let me go."

"I'm not ready to let you go without a fight."

"We have done enough fighting."

"I love you."

"I never said that I didn't love you."

"Then why do you want a divorce?"

"Because I deserve better."

"What about Sydney?"

"What about her?" Mac arches an eyebrow.

"Don't you think that she misses me?"

Her glance shifts to the blonde sitting at the front door whining.


	4. Fight Fair

"Way to change the subject."

"Don't be heartless," he begs.

"Stop trying to make me feel guilty."

"I am willing to bet that a pair of brown eyes is doing that right now."

She stares at a blonde with a set of brown eyes. Sydney sits at the door, whining incessantly.

"That's why our marriage doesn't work. You never fight fair."

"Neither do you. Sarah I am not the only one who ignores the rules of engagement whenever it suits me."

"You're not coming in," she puts her foot down.

"So let her come to me."

"Harm you are being ridiculous right now."

"I am the one who brought her home."

"That isn't the point."

"Sarah, please."

She stares at the front door, from a chair at the island. The golden retriever scratches at the door. Sarah sighs in defeat, and rises from her chair. She goes over to the door, and pushes the cover open on the dog door with her foot. The dog runs out of the house. Harm leans against the passenger's side of the car. He squats to meet the three year old golden. She greets him with a warm wet kiss. He presses the phone to his ear.

"She knows how to greet someone."

"I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend like everything is okay. Everything is not okay."

"I know. I want to fix it."

"Do you know how many times you have told me that? How many times have you vowed to work on things, and then run out the door the first time that you got a call? I can't put myself through that anymore."

"I still love you."

"That was never the issue."

"What do you want me to say?"

"There is nothing that you can say to fix this."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Leave."

"You're going to throw away ten years of our life?"

"Ten years is better than throwing away the rest of my life waiting on someone who is never content just being here with me. No matter how much I try, no matter what I do, I am never enough. I am not okay with that."

"Sarah…"

"You need to go," she tells him as the tears stream down her face.

"What about…"

She cuts him off, "The dog stays."

"I haven't seen her in over six months. She's mine too."

"You're the one who left. Why should I be punished for that?"

"You're being harsh."

"We will work out a custody agreement for the dog. Send her back in."

He nods, and pets the dog. He hears the line go dead. He stuffs his phone in the pocket of his pants.

"In!" He commands.

The dog turns, obediently, and heads towards the door. He watches her disappear into the house, wishing that he was joining her. He returns to his car. After a few moments he backs out of the driveway.

Hours later he finds himself sitting in a hotel room, wondering how he got here. He flips through the channels but nothing catches his attention. The only thing on his mind is her. He sits on the end of the bed. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and buries his head in his hands. He tries to make sense of it all.

She stands in her laundry room, staring at a neatly folded basket of laundry. She takes the plastic basket off the shelf. She stares at his clothes. She glances at the window to the right of the dryer. She moves across the room. She opens the window, and shoves the basket out the window, onto the lawn in anger. She slams the window closed, locking it in the process. She returns to the dryer. She watches her clothes as they spin around. She reaches for the handle, in an attempt to remove her clothing before it wrinkles. The ring on her left hand catches her eye. She steps away from the dryer, and exits the laundry room. She slips the gold band, and diamond engagement ring off her finger. She proceeds into the kitchen. She opens the drawer to the left of the fridge. She tosses the pair of rings into the junk drawer, and slams it closed.

* * *

_He climbs the stairs one evening after work, expecting to beat her home. He hears crying coming from the bathroom. He enters the master bedroom, and finds light pouring out from underneath the bathroom door. He glances at his watch, and stops in front of the door, in confusion. _

"_Sarah?"_

"_Go away," she responds._

"_Why are you home so early?"_

_She doesn't answer. He grabs the doorknob, and pushes the door open. He steps inside the bathroom, and finds her sitting on the floor in her uniform. She leans against the bathtub as she sobs. Her face is red from all the tears she's shed. He takes a seat next to her on the floor. _

"_Why are you home?"_

"_I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Too bad," he argues._

"_Harm, please," she begs. _

"_Sarah why are you home at noon?"_

"_Please just go away," she begs._

"_How long have you been home?"_

"_Half an hour."_

"_Why did you leave work early?"_

"_I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Please," he begs._

"_I got off early, and I went straight to the bar," she tells him._

_His eyes widen, "Excuse me?"_

"_You heard me."_

"_You've been drinking? What time did you get off work?"_

"_I left at nine thirty."_

"_You stopped at a bar at nine thirty in the morning? What kind of bar is open that early?"_

"_Does it matter?"_

"_Please tell me that you had better sense than to drive yourself home."_

"_I drove myself home."_

"_How much did you have to drink?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Why did you go to the bar?"_

"_To drink."_

"_Why? Why were you at the bar in the first place?"_

"_I got a phone call this morning."_

"_That drove you to want to drink?"_

"_Yes," she replies in a small voice, refusing to maintain eye contact. _


	5. Walk Away

_ She falls silent. His nostrils flare, and he clenches his fists. His face turns red as the anger overcomes him. _

"_Sarah why would you put everything in jeopardy for a drink? How am I supposed to trust you? You have get a phone call, and your first thought is to go to the bar? Dammit! In a few months we're going to be parents."_

"_No, we're not."_

_He furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"_

"_We are not having a baby."_

"_In less than six months our son is going to be here."_

"_The gestational carrier called this morning," she explains in a flat tone._

"_With the amniocentesis results?"_

"_No."_

"_I don't understand," he admits._

"_She was in a car accident yesterday."_

"_Is she okay?"_

"_No."_

"_What do you mean, no?"_

"_Apparently a couple of years ago she was in a fender bender," Sarah begins._

"_How is that relevant?"_

"_There was minor damage to her car, and no one was hurt."_

"_Mac!"_

"_The airbags deployed."_

"_What is your point?"_

"_The repair shop who repaired her car did not replace her airbag properly."_

"_What do you mean? They installed it incorrectly?"_

"_Apparently it is costly, and time consuming to properly re-install an airbag."_

"_Why does it matter?"_

"_Did the airbag fail to deploy?"_

"_No, when the airbag deployed it did so with such force that it produced shrapnel."_

"_I didn't know that was possible."_

"_Neither, did I."_

"_What is going on?"_

"_She suffered a serious head injury."_

"_And?"_

_She swallows hard, "She lost the baby."_

_He feels his heart sink, "We'll try again," he vows._

_She shakes her head, "I can't do this again."_

"_You can't give up so easily."_

"_Easily? Harm I put my body through three years of fertility treatments before we came to the conclusion that we would use a gestational carrier. It took us a year to find her, and two previous failed implantations. We've been at this for almost five years. I won't do it again."_

_"You're sure?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Now what?"_

"_We accept the facts."_

_He pulls her close to him, and hugs her tightly. _

* * *

He thinks about how many times he's walked away when she's needed him most. He paces the hotel room trying to figure out a way to rectify the situation. He wonders how he managed to screw up the one thing he wanted the most, so badly. He misses her so much that his heart aches.

She lies on the couch, reading a book. Sydney's head rests on her lap. The golden retriever places her paw on her lap. She places a book mark on the page she's on, and closes the book. She casts her glance to the intent stare of her brown eyed pooch. She pets Sydney's head until the dog drifts off to sleep.

* * *

_She shifts on the leather couch, trying to get comfortable. Harm sits next to her. He sits on one end, and she occupies the other. The distance between them is measurable. The third party in the room hold a clipboard, and a pen._

"_How did we get here?"_

_Harm folds his arms across his chest, "Our friends thought that it would be a good idea," he responds, begrudgingly._

"_Sarah what is your take on the situation?"_

_She shakes her head, "I thought that we were here to work on our marriage," she reponds._

"_You seem rather uncomfortable," the therapist points out._

"_I am not really comfortable with the thought of airing our dirty laundry to someone who charges to hear it."_

"_You made the appointment," Harm points out._

_"I want this to work."_

_"Who said that it's not?"_

"_You spend half of your time out of the country. I rarely see you. What kind of marriage is that?"_

"_You push me away."_

"_I have never once told you to leave. You always arrive on that solution on your own," she argues._

"_I just can't seem to make you happy."_

"_I can't be the only person in this marriage."_

"_I made the same vows that you did," he reminds her._

"_And they mean absolutely nothing when my husband is never around."_

_The therapist interjects, "What is the one thing that drove you to come here today?"_

_Sarah's glance falls to the floor. Harm swallows hard. _

"_Our life didn't go the way that we pictured it," he admits_

_"How do you mean?"_

_"We both thought that we would have more at stake by now."_

_"Meaning what?" The therapist quizzes._

_"We wanted a child," he admits._

_"Just one," Sarah adds._

_"How long have the two of you been married?" _

_"Eight years," he admits._

_"And you've been trying to bring that dream to fruition for how long?"_

_"The entirety of our marriage," Harm answers._

_"Three days ago it was finally supposed to become a reality," Sarah adds._

_"The birth mother changed her mind," Harmon explains._

_"So the two of you are having difficulty dealing with that loss?"_

_ The entire car ride home that evening is silent. She stares at the road, never once uttering a word. They enter the house, and she slams the door behind them. He finds her moving towards the stairs in an attempt to avoid him. He steps in front of her._

_"Where are you going?"_

_"Harm," she tries to reason with him._

_"Sarah," he whispers._

_"Please," she begs, "Not now."_

_"Why are you so angry? Are you angry at me? I'm…"_

_She cuts him off, "No," she replies in defeat._

_He furrows his brow, "I don't understand."_

_"And that's the problem, you have never understood."_

_"Understood what?" He locks eyes with her._

_"I've never been angry with you about any of this."_

_"Then who are you angry with?"_

_"Myself."_

_He furrows his brow, "Why?"_

_"All of this is my fault. I couldn't conceive. My body failed me. I failed you."_

_"You didn't fail me," he argues._

_She swallows hard, choking back tears, "Yeah, well tell that to your buddies in the nursing home when they ask you why you don't have any children," she pushes past him, and stomps up the stairs. _


	6. More Than Miles

_She lies wide awake in her bed, the night after she's told him not to come back. She thinks to the previous night, when she let her guard down, and asked him to stay. She hugs a pillow close to her chest. Ten years of marriage out the window. Ten years of her life wasted for someone who risked his life every single time he walked out the door for a mission. She had foolishly thought that those days were behind them when he left the Navy._

* * *

He listens to the sound of rain on the window pane as he lies awake in his bed that night. He tosses and turns unable to find any comfort. His bed his hard, and the hotel room is far from home. He's spent more than six months away from her. This night, not much different from any over the past six months. He can sleep on a rock, underneath the stars… but not without her. He feels like a fool for the choices that he's made. The choices that he told himself he made for her. He tried to justify every mission by telling her it was for them.

He stares at the ceiling, and hates himself for not realizing that all along it was for him. She's put up with his selfish for ten years. He knows that he can't blame her for giving up on him. He can't fault her for being fed up. The blame is on him, and he accepts it.

* * *

She lies on her side with her sheet tucked under her armpit. She stares at the doorway, in silence. The only sound she hears is the whirring of the ceiling fan overhead. Quiet nights like this make her miss him even more. She even misses the sound of him snoring. She hugs her pillow to her chest. No matter how much she wishes, he's not by her side. Knowing that it's her call, doesn't make her rest any easier.

He finds himself standing on the porch of an old colleague. He rings the doorbell, and a teenaged boy answers the door. He grins from ear to ear.

"I didn't know that you were back."

"A.J.," he smiles.

"Dad's in the dining room," he motions for him to come in.

Harm enters the house, making a beeline for the dining room. A.J. races up the stairs. Bud sits at the end of the table, sorting through a stack of paperwork.

"You're not even going to say hello?" Harmon questions.

Bud looks up from his pile of bills. He grins, "Where did you come from?"

He shrugs, "That's need to know."

"Sit down," Bud insists.

Harm pulls out a chair, and takes a seat next to him.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Bud I need a favor."

"You can't stay here. The inn is full."

"That's not it."

"What can I do?"

"Help me."

"Do what?"

"Convince my wife not to divorce me."

"I don't think I could even if I tried."

"She values your opinion."

"And, I told her two years ago that she should leave you."

"Please," he begs.

"It's not my place. You are the only one who can convince her to take you back."

"You don't sound as if you think I can do it."

"I don't," he admits.

"Why not? Is there someone else?"

Bud shakes his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then, what?"

"You've pushed her too far. I don't know if she can forgive you."

"I just need a chance to talk to her, face to face. That is all I am asking."

"I can't help you."

"Why not?"

"She would kill me if she found out."

"She won't find out."

"Harriet definitely would, and I know that she would kill me."

"She won't talk to me."

"Why are you fighting this? Just sign the papers."

"Wouldn't you fight for your marriage?"

"You walked out on your marriage," Bud reminds him.

"I didn't walk out on my marriage. I had a job to do."

"You walked out on your wife. What did you think what going to happen? Did you really think that she would cool off, and change her mind? She made it very clear that if you left you weren't coming back."

"She practically pushed me out of the door."

"She has never been able to push you into doing anything that you don't want to."

"I love her."

"No one has ever doubted that."

"I don't want to lose her."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you walked through that door."

"I was an idiot. What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything to me. Her opinion is the only one that counts."

"She's not going to back down, is she?"

"No."

"Then I guess we'll have to have our day in court."

"She agreed to whatever terms you want."

"I want to stay married."

"Since when did your marriage become a priority in your life?"

"It always has been."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"I don't want a divorce."

"Let her go."

"She is my wife. I love her. I don't want to let her go."

"Doesn't she deserve to be happy?"

"Absolutely."

"Did it ever occur to you that she is happier without you?"

"No."

"Maybe it should."

"I can't believe that you're saying I should give up."

"I am telling you that you should be a man, and admit when you're wrong. You can't fix it."

"So I should just sign the papers?"

"Yeah," he nods in agreement.

"Why is she avoiding me?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"Of course you do."

"That is something that you should ask her."

"I can't. She won't talk to me."

"Why are you pushing this? Why can't you just let her go?"

"I love her."

"I am not the one you need to prove that to."

"I just want a chance to talk to her, face to face."

"Why?"

"I quit the CIA."

"For now."

"I'm not going anywhere. I want to prove that to her."

"Did you try skyping her?"

"By face to face, I meant in person."


	7. Hurt Me Tomorrow

She sits on her back patio, staring past the person sitting across the table from her. Her mind is somewhere other than the conversation. She fixates on a tree in the backyard.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

She blinks, and makes eye contact with Harriet, "Huh?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"How long are you going to let this go on?"

"You know the answer to that."

"He stopped by the house. He just wants to see you."

"I don't want to see him."

"Don't you think that you owe him a face to face conversation?"

"I don't owe him anything."

"He has vowed that he will sign the papers if you just sit down and talk with him."

"There is nothing to talk about," she argues.

"Mac, there is plenty to talk about."

"There is nothing that I want to talk about with him."

"What are you afraid of?"

She scowls, "Do you even have to ask?"

"That he'll change his mind?"

"He has made it pretty clear that he doesn't want a divorce."

"He quit his job."

"Harriet, I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore."

"I know that you don't want to care, but you do. No matter what you say, I know that it still matters."

"It doesn't change the fact that I don't want to be married to him anymore."

"You have to talk to him. You don't have a choice."

"Yes, I do."

"What are you going to do, avoid him for the rest of your life?"

"If I have to."

"Is that why you put the house up for sale?"

"The house is too big."

"You're full of excuses," Harriet calls her on her load of crap.

"Why are you pushing this? You, yourself have said that we should end the marriage."

"Even if you don't have any desire to listen to what he has to say, you have to admit that there are things you need to say to him."

"I have said them."

"Circumstances change."

"Nothing is going to make me change my mind."

"You made that pretty obvious, months ago."

* * *

_Harriet enters the General's office, closing the door behind her. Sarah rises from her chair to meet her. _

"_You wanted to see me?" _

"_Yes," Mac nods, swallowing hard._

"_Ma'am, are you okay?"_

"_Just feeling a little under the weather," she admits. _

"_Maybe you should sit down," Harriet suggests._

"_I'm fine," she argues._

"_What did you want to see me about?"_

_Mac leans against the front of her desk. "I… um," she tries to ignore the feeling at the pit of her stomach._

_Without another word Harriet steps forward, grabbing the waste paper basket from beside Mac's desk. She holds it in front of the general as she proceeds to vomit into it. _

"_I am so sorry."_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me."_

"_The only thing that doesn't agree with your stomach is flying," Harriet points out._

_ That evening she gets home later than usual. She peels off her clothes, and sinks to her nose in a bubble bath. Even the calm of a nice bath can't seem to quiet her mind. She replays Harriet's words in her mind. She exits the bathtub, and grabs a towel. She wraps the fluffy white towel around her body, and proceeds to the sink. She squats down, and opens the cabinet door. She peers into the cabinet underneath the sink. She finds tub and tile cleaner, and an assortment of other cleaners. She reaches towards the back. Her fingers land on a box. She retrieves the box, and closes the cabinet doors. She rises to her feet. _

_ She goes to bed, after drying her hair. Exhausted from a long day of work she falls asleep on top of the covers. It's the first decent night of rest she's gotten in the five weeks since Harm's departure. She wakes to the sound of the blaring alarm clock. She peels herself out of bed, and heads to the bathroom to pee. After peeing, she finds herself at the sink washing her hands. She glances to her right at a plastic stick. As she turns off the faucet she reaches for a towel. Her eyes fixate on the seemingly neon color pink. Her heart skips a beat. _

"_Shit!"_

* * *

"Can we talk about something else?" Mac questions.

"I can't think of anything else," Harriet admits.

"Why are you so adamant about me talking to him?"

"Don't you think that he deserves to know the truth?"  
"Yes."

"So why won't you talk to him?"

"Because I don't know what the truth is."

"You need to be honest with him."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"He isn't going to sign the papers unless you have a face to face with him."

"I feel like I'm being held hostage in my own marriage."

"You don't make it easy," Harriet points out.

"Excuse me?"

"The walls that you build up around yourself make it difficult for anyone, including him to get through."

"I just want to put all of this behind me."

"Mac I think that is easier said than done."

"Now is not the right time for me to have this conversation with him."

"There is never going to be a right time."

"You don't know the half of it."

"How could I? You don't talk to me, either."

"I am talking to you now," Sarah argues.

"Yeah, but you're not saying anything."

"What do you expect?"

"I expect for you to feel something."

"I do."

"But you don't share it with anyone."

"Harriet, there are things that about me that no one else needs to know."

"You know, Harm is not the only one to blame for your marriage not working."

"I never said that he was."

"How is he supposed to be here for you, when you won't let him?"

"I never told him to go."

"And you don't let him in when he's here."


	8. Invisible

He knocks on the door, half expecting her to chicken out at the last minute. He waits for her to come to the door.

"It's open," she calls from inside the house. He reaches for the doorknob. He is surprised by the fact that the door is actually unlocked. He enters the house, closing the door behind himself.

"Where are you?" He questions.

"In here," she responds.

He ventures into the dining room. He finds her sitting at the head of the dining room table.

"Are you expecting someone?"

"Just you," she answers.

"You made dinner?"

She nods, "Yes."

"Oh."

"Have a seat," she points to the chair adjacent to her.

"I didn't expect you to make dinner."

"I still eat, that hasn't changed."

"Am I late?" He glances at his watch.

She shakes her head, "No I just sat down."

"I guess that I thought you would change your mind."

"It seems as if this is the only way that you will consider signing the divorce papers."

"Sarah, I don't know what to say."

"Then maybe you should eat first."

He nods. They sit in an awkward silence as they eat. By the time they're finished with their meal the tension between them is palpable. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He rises from his chair.

"Where are you going?"

"To put the dishes in the sink."

"Sit down," she instructs.

He nods, returning to his seat.

"The dishes can wait," she insists.

"I don't want a divorce," he explains

"I know that."

"So why are you pressing the issue?"

"Because I do," she reminds him.

"I want to come home."

"This won't be home much longer," she tells him.

"What do you mean?"

"I've gotten an offer on the house," she explains.

"You can't do that," he argues.

"My name is the only one on the deed," she reminds him.

"You can't sell this house," he argues.

"Why not?"

"It's our house."

"There is no us anymore."

"We built this house together. We planned every single detail right down to the trim."

"If the house means that much to you then maybe you should keep it."

"Where would you go?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Do you always have to be so stubborn? Can't we just have a civilized conversation? Let's just put all of our cards on the table, and discuss this like two adults."

"I don't want to be married to you, anymore."

"Why not?"

"How am I supposed to stay married to someone who is never around?"

"I will be around more," he vows.

"I have heard all of this before."

"I am currently unemployed."

"Don't expect me to support you."

He furrows his brow, "I am retiring."

"Until the next time."

"Sarah why are you being such a hard ass?"

"I'm not. I am just being realistic."

"How is it that you can come to this decision so easily?"

"You think that this was an easy decision for me to make? Harm we have been married for nine years. I didn't reach this decision easily. I don't take it lightly. I have spent a lot of time contemplating ending this marriage."

"You never told me."

"I shouldn't have had to spell it out for you. I haven't been happy in a long time."

"Nothing I do makes you happy. I have tried."

"So then try to let me go."

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yes."

"I think that we should try to make this work before we just call it quits."

"We have tried to make it work. How many hours of counseling have we undergone? How many times have we tried to fix what was broken? It can't be done."

"I just think that you don't want to put the work into it."

"I am not the one who runs away every single time things get tough. Instead of dealing with things you just walk away. You leave, and hope that they will be sorted out by the time that you get home. If I wanted to be alone I wouldn't have gotten married in the first place. I am alone all the time."

"That is going to change."

"It's too little, too late," she tells him scooting her chair away from the table.

"Sarah, come on," he argues.

She shakes her head, and grabs the dirty dishes off the table. She rises from her seat, and quickly exits the room. He does a double take as she rises from her chair, and heads into the kitchen. For a moment he sits in the dining room, completely frozen. After a couple of moments he vacates his seat, and heads into the kitchen. He finds her standing at the dishwasher loading the dishes. He leans against the counter on the other side of the dishwasher. He folds his arms across his chest.

"Is there something that you want to tell me?"

"Your stuff is in storage if you want it. The key is in the junk drawer."

He furrows his brow, watching her closely as she loads the dishes.

"Sarah that isn't what I meant."

"I think that our conversation is over. You should go."

"Our conversation has only just begun. Obviously there is something of a rather large magnitude that you have failed to mention."

"We wedding band, and engagement ring are in the junk drawer too. You can have them if you want," she answers him as she closes the dishwasher. He grabs her arm.

"Sarah!"

She stops, and turns towards him, "What?"

"Talk to me," he begs.

"I have made it very clear that I don't want to talk to you. Why do you keep pushing me?"

She finally makes eye contact with him. "I don't want this to be over."

"I do."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes," she insists.

"I can't believe you."

"I do get to have a life, even if it is without you."

He doesn't respond to her. He just stares at her. His eyes shift from her face. He feels a lump forming in his throat as he studies her.

"Stop!" She growls.

"Stop, what?"

"Looking at me."

"You've made that kind of difficult."


	9. I'm Not The Only One

She stands in her kitchen with Harm. She invited him over against her better judgment. She wears a hoodie, and a pair of jeans. He can't take his eyes off of her. She prays that this awkward evening will soon end, but she know that the odds are against her.

"You avoided my phone calls for six months."

"What is your point?"

"I asked everyone if they knew why. I knew that you were angry at me. I expected after the first month, that maybe you would change your mind. I thought that maybe you would come to your senses. I certainly didn't expect to come home to this."

She swallows hard, and avoids eye contact, "You think that I expected any of this?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would you have expected me to say? We're legally separated, and I have absolutely no interest in reconciling with you."

"You withheld information from me."

"It is my information to withhold," she argues.

"You didn't think that I had a right to know?"

"Maybe I would have felt differently if you weren't half a world away at the time. I had absolutely no way of knowing that you would actually come back."

"What are you saying? You hoped that something happened to me, and I didn't come back?"

"No that's not what I meant."

"But that's what you used to justify not telling me?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"It all makes sense now. You didn't want to see me, because you didn't want me to find out. Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I hadn't planned on it," she admits.

"That's unacceptable."

"You chose to leave."

His nostrils flare. He reaches out. She pushes his hand away.

"Don't!" She warns.

"How did we get here?" He wonders.

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"I think that we need to try to put the past behind us. We need to move forward."

"I agree."

"We need to try to settle our differences."

"We need to move forward, separately."

"How do you expect that to happen?"

"Walk away, you're good at that."

"No."

"Please just go," she begs, on the verge of tears.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Everything has changed."

"Nothing has changed."

"You don't think that this changes everything?"

She doesn't respond.

"Sarah, you're pregnant."

"I am aware of that," her glance falls to her round stomach.

"And you don't think that it changes everything?"

"No."

"You still want a divorce?"

"Yes."

"You're pregnant, with my child, and you expect me to agree to a divorce?"

"I expect you to sign the papers," she nods in confirmation.

"How can you expect that?"

"For once in your life can't you just do something for someone other than yourself? I am asking you for a divorce. Don't make this any harder than it has to be. A divorce is what is best for everyone involved."

"You're having my child, and you expect me to agree to a dissolution of marriage?"

"First of all, our marriage has already dissolved. Second of all, I never said that it was yours."

His eyes widen as his glance falls from her face onto her stomach, "Excuse me? Are you telling me that there is a possibility that the baby isn't mine?"

"Yes, that is what I am telling you," she nods.

"So the real reason that you want a divorce is that you want freedom to pursue someone else?"

"Yes."

"Was the separation even official when this happened?"

"No."

"Is the baby mine, or not?"

She purses her lips, "I don't know."

"You really expect me to believe that you don't know?"

"Yes."

"You're telling me that you went outside of our marriage, and…"

She cuts him off, "I am telling you that our marriage is over. I have been telling you that for a while, and you just haven't wanted to hear that. Please just go," she begs.

He nods, "Fine," walking away from the conversation, and leaving the house.

* * *

He sits at a bar, later that evening drowning his sorrows. A blonde walks up to him, and interrupts his pity party.

"Can I join you?"

He looks up at a familiar face, "Harriet what are you doing here?"

"I thought that I might find you here," she admits.

"Have a seat."

She slides onto the stool next to him, "I take it your conversation with Mac didn't go the way that you planned for it to."

"Far from it. Why didn't you warn me?"

"Warn you about what?"

"About the baby."

"It wasn't my place to tell you."

"My wife is pregnant. Don't you think that I had a right to know?"

"Yes. I just didn't have the right to tell you."

"I can't believe that this is happening."

"Which part?"

"Any of it," he takes a swig of his drink.

"Specifically?"

"She files for separation, while she's pregnant."

"She didn't know when she filed."

"I just can't believe her."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been married for nine years. We have been trying for a baby for the entirety of our marriage."

"I know."

"We both gave up on any hope that it would happen."

"I know."

"And now it has."

"She was just as surprised as you are, probably even more so."

"She told me that it might not be mine."

"She did?" Harriet reacts with a look of surprise.

"Yeah," he nods in confirmation, "You sound surprised."

"I didn't think that she was going to tell you."

"That there was a possibility that it wasn't mine? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she nods.

"Did you know?"

"That she was pregnant?"

He shakes his head, "That there was someone else? Did you know that she was seeing someone else? How long has this been going on? I mean I know that I only have myself to blame, for pushing her over the edge, but I just never expected that she would cheat. She just isn't that type. It's so out of character for her. Until today I never considered the possibility."

Harriet's facial expression changes, "What exactly did she tell you?"

"She said that she didn't know whether the baby is mine or not."

"Oh."

"Is that true? Does she really not know? Is there really another possibility, or is she just trying to push me out of her life?"

"It's true, she doesn't know."

"Who is he?"

Harriet shrugs, "I don't know."

"I feel like I'm missing something. Did she go on a binge, and have a one night stand with someone? I just can't wrap my mind around her cheating, even if she thought the marriage was over."

"You should always listen to your instincts."

"What are you saying?"

"I guess you should ask yourself if you really believe that she would cheat on you?" She turns, and walks away.


	10. Slow Me Down

She lies in her bed, wide awake. She glances at the clock, but the sound of footsteps shifts her focus. She stares at the doorway. Within seconds a shadowy figure appears in her doorway. It stops in the doorway, contemplating whether to proceed or not. She sits up, and flips on the lamp that sits on the bedside stand next to her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Something you said bothered me," he admits.

"How did you get in here?" She questions, sitting up in bed.

"I used the code," he reveals.

"I changed the code."

"You forget how well that I know you."

"Harm you're wasting your time," she insists as she flips on the lamp.

He crosses over the threshold, and enters the room. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. She inches towards the center, uncomfortable with their proximity.

"I expected you to pull your weapon on me," he adds.

"That's why you hesitated in the doorway?" She quizzes.

"Yeah," he nods in confirmation.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't be able to recognize the sound of your footsteps?"

"You made it pretty clear that you didn't want me here."

"I wouldn't shoot you."

"That's good to know."

"Harm, why are you here?"

"Because we need to talk."

"You hate talking."

"Sarah, please," he implores.

She folds her arms across her chest, "So talk."

"Are you ever going to learn to trust me?"

"I married you, didn't I?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?"

"I didn't want to talk to you."

"That isn't a good enough reason," he argues.

"I don't have to have a reason."

"No matter how angry you are at me, no matter how much you hate me, I still find it hard to believe that I wouldn't be the first person you would want to tell."

"I never said that you weren't the first person that I wanted to tell."

He grins, "Sarah, there are a lot of things that you never say."

"What's your point?"

"I want the truth."

She furrows her brow. She contemplates where to even begin.

* * *

_She stares at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief. She grips the plastic stick with one hand. Her nausea kicks back in the second that the reality hits her. She swallows hard, and lowers herself to the floor. Her back leans against the cabinet doors. She feels her pulse quicken. As a storm of emotions begins to wash over her she begins to hyperventilate. She has been dreaming about this day for years. She has pictured in in her mind, a thousand times. Never, in her wildest imagination did it feel like this. She feels conflicted. For a moment she feels relief that it has finally happened. A second later she feels scared, and confused. Her mind races as she thinks of all the possibilities. The tears sting her cheeks as they trail down her face. She looks at the set of rings on her left hand, thinking about what they once meant. She tries to shake the feeling of utter despair. _

"_This can't be happening," she tells herself. _

* * *

He gently taps the side of her leg, with his hand, trying to bring her back to reality, "Sarah, did you hear me?"

"Yes," she nods as she looks through him.

"I talked to Harriet earlier."

"And?"

"She simply reminded me how well that I know you."

"What's your point?"

"I have seen you angry enough that you want to kill me. You once threw a pair of stiletto heels at my head. If I hadn't ducked I am confident that I would presently only have one eye. In all that time I never once considered that you would cheat on me. The thought of you trying to get back at me by being with another man never even entered my mind."

"That makes it impossible?" She arches an eyebrow.

"It makes completely out of character for you."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I cannot imagine a scenario in which you would violate your vows to satisfy some twisted desire for vengeance."

"Maybe you just don't want to," she suggests.

"Even if you went on a three week bender, I just can't see it happening. Even if I thought that you believed there was no chance for reconciliation, and you knew that we would ultimately dissolve our marriage. I just don't buy it."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

He swallows hard, "When you said that you don't know who the father is, were you telling the truth?"

"Yes," she nods, with a pained expression on her face.

"What does that mean?"

"What does it mean for you?"

He shakes his head, "Sarah what does that mean for you?"

"It doesn't really matter," she answers in a flat tone.

"It doesn't?" He responds in disbelief.

"It's mine, that's all that matters."

"Really, that is all that matters?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"If it doesn't matter does that mean you have attempted to find out who the father is?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The testing can be dangerous."

"I assume that it's no more dangerous than an amniocentesis."

"It's not."

"I believe that they can use the sample from an amniocentesis to determine DNA."

"They can," she confirms.

"So why wouldn't you have them test DNA when you had the amniocentesis?"

"I didn't have one."

"What do you mean that you didn't have one?"

"I didn't have one," she repeats.

"Why not? You hate being unprepared."

"It has nothing to do with being prepared," she argues.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"I didn't want to take the risk."

"You didn't want to take the risk? It is a minimal risk."

"I didn't want to take any risk."

"Or maybe you just didn't want to find out."

She clenches her jaw, "Please just stop," she insists.

"I just want the truth."

"Harm, please just drop it."

"Drop it? How can I drop it? Are you planning to completely remove me from every aspect of your life? You can't do that. If…"

She cuts him off, "I wouldn't prevent you from seeing your child."

"If it is mine?"


	11. Hey Jealousy

"If it is yours," she nods, continuing to avoid eye contact.

"Sarah what is really going on here?"

"Please let it go," she begs.

"Let it go? How the hell am I supposed to let it go? I come home from a mission, and I find out that you're pregnant. My wife is six months pregnant, and she didn't tell me. I think that I get to ask questions. I have the right to be suspicious."

"If you have a question, why don't you ask it?" She suggests, as the vein in her forehead begins to pulsate.

"There is no other possibility is there? You just don't want me around. You want me out of your life, so you told me that the baby might not be mine. You thought that maybe you could convince me to stay away. I guess that I didn't realize that you were that bitter. Or maybe it has nothing to do with you being bitter. Maybe, you're just being selfish. You have waited for this opportunity for so long that you don't want to share your baby with anyone else, including me. I find it hard to believe that you would deny your child its father, though."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you tell me that I might not be the father to get rid of me?"

"No."

"Then why did you tell me that?"

"Because it's true," she begins to raise her voice.

"I don't believe you," he argues.

"I guess that you don't have to."

"Sarah did you cheat on me?"

She swallows hard, and finally makes eye contact. She contemplates how to answer for a few moments, before she says anything. She exhales, and chooses to answer honestly, "No."

"So what you said earlier was a lie?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"They can't both be true," he argues.

A lump begins to form in her throat, "I wish that they weren't."

He falls silent. He scrutinizes her facial expression. There are heavy dark circles under her eyes, as if she hasn't been sleeping much lately. There is a look of pain in her eyes that he hasn't seen before. He realizes how vulnerable she looks. Her jaw is clenched, in an attempt to keep tears from falling. He can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

He shakes his head, and breaks the silence, "I don't understand."

"I don't either," she admits as the tears begin to fall from her eyes. He shifts positions, and leans towards her. She allows him to hug her. She buries her head in his shoulder as she cries. After a few moments she pushes him away. She wipes the tears from her face with the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry."

"I know that you're angry with me. I am angry with me for being stupid enough to walk away. I am angry with me for being delusional enough to expect you to be over it by the time I got home. Please talk to me."

"I can't," she says in a small voice.

She sits in the middle of the bed with her upper half leaning against the headboard. Her legs are stretched out in front of her, and her covers are pulled up to her waist. Harm is next to her. The upper half of his body leans against the headboard. He sits on top of the covers with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"You can tell me anything," he reminds her.

"Not this," she whispers.

He furrows his brow, "Sarah?"

* * *

_She tosses the pregnancy test in the drawer, after finally mustering up enough strength to get up off the floor. She grips the countertop, in front of the bathroom sink. She looks at her reflection in the mirror. It has been five weeks since Harmon left. She notes the dark circles under her eyes, and the pale appearance of her skin. Her finger traces a scar above her eyebrow._

* * *

_It is weeks before she makes an appointment with her OB/GYN. She sits on an exam table, in a paper dress waiting for the doctor to enter the room. Finally she enters the room, and takes a seat on a stool. She glances at the chart, and then at Sarah. She goes down a list of questions. Half-way through Sarah seems to zone out. _

"_Sarah," she repeats._

_Sarah reinitiates eye contact, "I'm sorry, what was the question?"_

"_We established the date for the first day of your last period, but I like to deal with the whole picture," the physician explains._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Do you know what the possible dates for conception are?"_

"_September eleventh, or September fourteenth."_

"_Just two dates?"_

"_Yes," she nods. _

"_Those are all of my questions, so if you're ready I'll start my exam."_

"_Can I ask you something?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Is there a way to determine which date…"_

_The physician cuts her off, "We also use measurement tools to help us determine accuracy. That being said, it would be nearly impossible to determine whether it was the eleventh or the fourteenth."_

* * *

"Mac?"

She changes the subject, "I repainted the nursery."

"You mean to tell me that you got rid of the marine green?"

"I thought that it was too dark."

"I always thought that."

"That isn't what you told me."

"I still think that it is too militant," he adds.

"It doesn't matter now," she admits.

"What color did you paint?"

"Why don't you go look for yourself?"

He nods, and leaves the room. She follows him down the hallway. He finds the door to the nursery wide open. He flips on the light, and studies the room. It is much different than he remembers it. There aren't piles of boxes all over the room. The crib is empty, except for a mattress. There is no bedding in the crib. The room has even been rearranged. He studies the walls. Two walls are solid grey. The wall opposite of the crib is purple. The wall behind the crib is a chevron pattern with grey alternating with purple.

"You really shouldn't inhale all these paint fumes," he points out.

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"I had to hire someone," she admits.

"You did?" His eyes widen in disbelief.

"Something kept getting between me and the wall."

He smirks, "It's not very gender neutral."


	12. You Save Me

"Why does it have to be gender neutral?" She questions.

He doesn't answer her. He goes over to the closet, and pushes the door open. He stares at the clothing inside. There is a mix of green, and yellow in part of the closet. His eyes shift to the other half of the closet. He furrows his brow. He points to one of the hangers.

"Sarah, is that a tutu?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"Is that just wishful thinking?"

"For a ballerina?"

"For a girl?"

Before she can answer Sydney darts into the room, and crawls under the crib. Mac rolls her eyes.

"Out," she insists.

"There must be a thunderstorm on the horizon," Harm points out.

"She can hide under the couch, or in the master bedroom, but she does not need to be in here. I don't want dog hair all over everything."

"Sydney," Harm calls.

She wriggles her way out from underneath the crib. She stops at his feet. He bends over, and lifts her off the ground. He carries her out of the room. Mac follows him out of the room, closing the door behind them. Sydney looks over Harm's shoulder at Mac. The golden retriever glares at her.

"You're such a big baby."

Harm carries her into the master bedroom. When he puts her down, she jumps onto the bed, and burrows under the covers.

"I see that she is still a bed hog," Harm comments.

"I would like to point out that you created that monster."

He grins, "I will take responsibility for that. How is she doing with all of this," he points to her stomach.

She wears a pair of athletic shorts, and his Navy t-shirt. She looks down at her burgeoning belly.

"It irritates her."

"The baby isn't even here yet," he points out.

"It is already interfering with her life."

"How?"

"She can't get as close to me as she would like."

"I've met her, and I find that hard to believe."

"One morning I woke up, and found her lying with her head on my stomach, just looking at me."

"You've offended her."

She points to her stomach, "This offends her."

He points to the bed, "Have a seat."

She takes a seat at the end of the bed. He takes a seat next to her.

"Help me understand all of this."

"I don't know if I can."

"You filed papers to be separated the day after I left."

"Yes," she confirms.

"I didn't sign them for two months."

"I know."

"When did you find out?"

"Before you signed them," she admits.

"Why didn't you retract them?"

"I still want a divorce."

"You want to do this on your own?"

"No one wants to do this on their own."

"Sarah, what happened?"

"To us?"

He shakes his head, "That's not what I'm asking."

* * *

_September 15__th__, 2014—0723 Zulu_

_Harriet rolls towards the sound of a ringing phone. Confident that all of her children are secured in their beds she doesn't even open her eyes to answer the phone. She grabs the cordless phone off the charger, and places it to her ear._

"_Hello?" She responds sheepishly._

"_I'm sorry to wake you up."_

_Harriet opens her eyes, and glances at the clock. It reads; 3:23._

"_That's okay ma'am, what's going on?"_

"_I am sorry to be calling so late."_

"_Ma'am, what's going on? You've already apologized. Is something wrong?"_

"_I need to ask you a favor," Sarah admits._

"_Anything," she agrees._

"_Can you come get me?"_

"_Ma'am where are you?"_

_Sarah doesn't respond._

"_Mac? What's going on? Are you okay?"_

"_I…" she trails off, as a lump forms in her throat._

"_Text me the address, I'll be there shortly."_

"_Thank you."_

* * *

_September 15__th__, 2014—0743 Zulu_

_ Harriet enters the E.R. wearing a pair of sneakers, her pajama bottoms, and a hooded sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She approaches a nurse at the desk, who points her in the right direction. She stops in front of E.R. bay 17. The door is closed. She takes a deep breath, and knocks. Someone on the other side of the door tells her to enter. She closes door behind her. She looks up, and finds her commanding officer sitting in a hospital bed, wearing a gown. Harriet sets the bag of clothing down on a chair next to the bed. She steps forward, and examines the general. She has six stiches above her left eyebrow. She has an abrasion to her right cheekbone. Her lip is split. _

"_I brought clothes, like you asked."_

"_Thank you."_

"_What happened?"_

"_Nothing," she lies._

"_Were you in a car accident?"_

"_No."_

"_A bar fight?"_

"_No."_

_Harriet reaches for her hand. She notices the bruising on her arms, and the abrasions on her knuckles. She notices a bruise in the shape of a handprint on her right arm. _

"_What happened to you?"_

"_I don't want to talk about it," she answers, "I just want to go home."_

"_Where are you clothes?" _

"_They took them," she says in a small voice._

"_Why did they take them?"_

_Sarah breaks eye contact, "Because they're evidence."_

"_Evidence of what? Did you kill someone?"_

"_No."_


	13. Take It Out On Me

He snaps his fingers, "Earth to Sarah."

"Sorry," she shakes it off.

"Where did you go?"

"Don't worry about it," she tells him.

"Talk to me," he begs.

"I should get to bed."

"You're retired. Do you have somewhere to be in the morning?"

"Court," she answers.

"Court? You're retired. Why would you be going to court? Have you been court martialed?"

"I have not."

"So why are you going to court?"

"Hopefully I'm not."

"You just said that you were."

"I am hopeful that an out of court deal can be made. I don't really want to appear in court tomorrow. I don't have anything to wear."

"You could always wear your uniform."

"It doesn't fit."

"Too bad, the star on each shoulder should be enough to intimidate anyone."

"That isn't the goal."

"Are you an expert witness?"

"I am _the_ witness."

"For who?"

"The prosecution."

"What's going on?"

* * *

_September 14__th__, 0259 Zulu_

_She pulls into her garage, in her SUV. She pushes the garage door opener to close the door. She sits in the car, with the door closed, and the engine off as she collects a stack of files from her passenger's side seat. She removes the key from the ignition, and opens the door. She slides out of the vehicle. The only light on is light from the garage door motor. She hears rustling coming from in front of the car. She looks up, and finds a figure standing in front of her. Her heart sinks. She freezes. Her keys are between her knuckles. Footsteps move towards her. They stop less than a foot from her. She stares at the face of a former Navy seal. She swallows hard, dropping the files on the ground. _

"_Do you remember me?" He questions._

_She says nothing. She hears something behind her. She turns her head, and finds another male figure standing behind her. She notices the gun in his hand. He reacts quickly. He cracks her in the back of the head with the weapon. She feels her blood pressure rising as blood rushes to her head. She stumbles backwards. She presses her body against the driver's side of her car. The first figure comes at her with a wrench. She ducks, and he connects with the car window. She takes the opportunity to make her move. She raises her fist. A hand grabs her, and yanks her wrist backwards. She tries to wriggle free from his grip, but he's seven inches taller than she is, and is significantly heavier. _

_ The second figure shoves her against the car. The back of her head hits the car. She feels woozy, but she doesn't lose consciousness. The second figure takes the opportunity to pin her against the car. He grips her arms, and holds her against the car. The first figure brandishes his weapon again. She knees the second figure in the groin. He loosens his grip on her. The first figure reacts quickly, cracking her in the head with a wrench. She manages to uppercut him in the jaw. His fist clenches, and he connects with her right cheekbone. She notes the brass knuckles as he retracts his fist. The second figure recovers. His nostrils flare as he comes towards her. She pushes him, in an attempt to throw him off balance. _

"_Joe, a little help here," the second figure asks._

_Joe nods, and proceeds to restrain her. She kicks at him, as he moves her away from the car. The second figure opens the rear driver's side door. They proceed to attempt to get her into the back seat of the car. She grips the door, unwilling to get in the car. She kicks, and thrashes violently. She feels herself beginning to drift out of consciousness. They bang her head against the car as they attempt to subdue her. She loses consciousness for a few seconds. By the time that she regains consciousness she is lying in her back seat. She lies in a supine position. She opens her eyes, and finds herself face to face with the second figure. He has her arms pinned above her head. Joe straddles her. He rips her uniform shirt off. The buttons fly all over the car. She kicks at him. She tries to free her arms. She glances upward for a brief moment. She finds a needle coming towards her. She tries to wriggle away. He injects her before she can get away. Within seconds she feels a decrease in muscle control. She tries to get away, but her attempts prove futile. _

* * *

He squeezes her hand, and she returns to reality. She looks over at him, and realizes that she's crying.

"I'm sorry."

"Sarah, talk to me," he begs.

"They tried to postpone the court date," she explains.

"For what? You have said absolutely nothing about what is going on."

"I wouldn't know where to start," she admits.

"The beginning," he suggests.

"I don't know if I can."

"Please," he begs.

Before she can begin she feels a foot kick her in the rib.

* * *

_She trudges down the stairs in her pajamas. She moves towards the sound of someone knocking on her door. She looks out the peephole, and proceeds to unlock the door. She pulls the door open. Harriet enters the house._

"_Harriet it's eleven o'clock what are you doing here so late?"_

"_I am worried about you."_

"_Don't be."_

"_You weren't yourself today," she points out._

_Sarah leads her into the living room. She points to the couch, "Have a seat."_

_Harriet takes a seat. Sarah sits on the arm of the couch with her feet on the cushion next to Harriet. _

"_You don't talk about it," Harriet begins._

"_There is nothing to talk about."_

"_I could tell that it was on your mind today."_

"_I'm fine," she lies._

"_No, you're not. It has barely been a month, and you're..."_

_Sarah cuts her off, "I will be fine."_

"_Who are you trying to convince?"_

_She shrugs, "I don't know."_

"_You seemed very distracted today. What's on your mind?"_

"_Nothing," she lies._

"_This morning when you were on your way to your office you looked as if you could puke."_


	14. Holes

"_I barely made it into the office. __I puked in the trash can the second the door closed," she admits._

"_At what point are you going to talk about this with someone?"_

"_Who says that I haven't?"_

"_I know that you haven't."_

"_I don't want to talk about it."_

"_So you're just going to let it consume you?"_

"_Harriet…"_

"_Mac, please. I got a call from you at three o'clock in the morning, and came to get you from the hospital. When we got here your garage was a crime scene, and they took your car for evidence. You took two days off work, and came back. You lied to everyone, and said that you crashed your car into a tree. I saw the look on your face that night, I know that you didn't hit a tree."_

"_What do you want me to say?"_

"_Anything."_

_She swallows hard, "I'm pregnant."_

"_What?!"_

"_Please don't make me repeat that."_

"_You're pregnant?"_

_Sarah nods._

"_When did you find out?"  
_

_"This morning," she admits._

"_I don't know what to say."_

"_Neither do I."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_I took half a dozen tests," she reveals._

_Harriet studies the look Mac's face. Mac doesn't say anything. The tears begin to stream down her cheeks. _

"_It's okay," Harriet reassures her._

"_No, it's not. None of this is okay. I don't think that I can do this. I…"_

"_Mac?"_

"_I don't know how this could have happened," she adds._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_This shouldn't be happening."_

"_What do you mean it shouldn't be happening?"_

"_It isn't possible," she sobs._

_Harriet furrows her brow, "What makes you say that?"_

"_I did everything that I was supposed to do."_

_Harriet scoots towards her, "What do you mean?"_

"_I can't be pregnant. I don't know…" she trails off._

"_You don't know what?"_

"_I don't know who the father is," she responds, hysterically._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Something went wrong."_

"_What went wrong?"_

"_Everything," she estimates._

"_I don't understand."_

"_I took the pill."_

_Harriet's heart sinks, "You don't think that there is any possibility that the baby is Harm's?"_

"_He left five weeks ago."_

"_I know."_

"_And for the six months before that we were sleeping in separate rooms. That night I thought I could convince him to stay. I asked him to stay. I thought that…" she stops mid-sentence._

"_Mac?"_

"_Four weeks, and four days ago... I took the pill. This shouldn't be happening."_

* * *

"Sarah, please," he begs her.

"I'm tired," she tells him.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"I have to be up early in the morning," she insists.

"For court?"

"Yes."

"Why are you going to court?"

"It's late, and I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You expect me to just leave?"

"You can sleep on the couch if you want," she answers.

"The couch? What about the guest room?"

"You can't sleep in there they just painted it this evening."

"How many rooms did you have repainted?"

"The other three bedrooms."

"Why?"

"I didn't like the wall color. That is all of the reason that I need."

She tosses and turns the entire rest of the night. He makes a resolution to make the best of a sticky situation. He retires to the couch without any argument. In an unexpected turn of events he ends up with a sleeping buddy. Just as he manages to get comfortable on the couch Sydney jumps on top of him. She worms her way into a spot between him, and the back of the couch.

When he wakes up he finds Sarah sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper. He walks over to the cabinet above the coffee maker. He opens the cabinet drawer, and peers inside. He finds the cabinet void of coffee. He furrows his brow.

"Mac?"

"Huh?" She looks up from the article that she's reading.

"There is no coffee in here."

"Sorry," she apologizes.

"How did you run out of coffee?"

She swivels around, on the stool that she's on. She looks at her stomach, and then at him, "I haven't drank any coffee in a while."

"Right," he nods.

"You drank all of it before you quit?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Coffee has a pretty lengthy shelf life," he points out.

"Harm I threw it away."

"Why?"

"I could smell it from the bedroom."

"That is an exaggeration."

"Every time I smell coffee, or even coffee grounds I get sick."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I can't eat a cheeseburger, either."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't even go into a burger joint."

"Why not?"

"The smell makes me sick."

"Is that normal?"

"The doctor assured me that it would pass."

"Has it?"

She shrugs, "I stopped subjecting myself to burgers, and coffee several months ago."

"What time are you supposed to be in court?"

"Soon."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No," she shakes her head, "but you could do me a favor."

"What's that?"

"Check to see if the paint is dry, and put the crown molding back up."

"I can do that."

She smiles at him, "You do know that isn't going to change anything, right? You being here, or putting the crown molding up is not going to dissuade me from the divorce."

He nods, "And it's not going to change the fact that I still love you."

"You do know that you can't stay here, right?"

"Yeah."

She leaves the house. He watches her back out the driveway in her silver SUV. He wonders to himself when she got a new car. He exits the house, and heads into the garage to grab his tools. He pushes the door open, half-expecting to find her other vehicle. He finds both garage bays empty. He flips on the light, and makes his way across the garage towards his work bench. He stops halfway across. He stares at a divot in the concrete. He shifts into a squatting position. He rubs his finger over the void in the concrete. He rises to his feet, and tips his head upward, realizing that the light above his head is out. He studies the burnt out bulb for a moment before something else catches his eye. He stares at a hole in the ceiling. Curious, he pulls the string on the ceiling between the two garage bays. He climbs into the attic crawl space. He uses his phone as a flashlight. He follows the trajectory of the hole. He places his hand against one of the trusses.


	15. It's Not Just Me

Slightly disoriented he heads back into the house with his tools. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and dials a familiar number. The party on the other end answers after two rings.

"Harriet?"

"Yes?"

"There appear to be bullet holes in the garage."

"What garage?"

"My garage," he answers.

"Why are you in the garage?"

"I'm not. I'm in the house now."

"She let you in?"

"I snuck in last night."

"She didn't kick you out?"

"No."

"So the two of you…"

He cuts her off, "She made it very clear that despite the fact that Sydney and I slept on the couch last night, I will not be staying here regularly. She also pointed out that she is going to continue to pursue the divorce."

"Is she there?"

"No. She's in court."

"She told you?"

"She told me that she was going to court. She didn't elaborate."

"Oh."

"Back to my question, why are there bullet holes in the garage?"

"I can't really speak to that. I wasn't there."

"Did someone fire shots in the garage?"

"I believe that they did," she responds.

"Who?"

"That is something you should ask Mac."

"Why?"

"Because it is not my story to tell."

"Harriet, why were there shots fired?"

"Again, not my place."

"What the hell is going on, here? Was this house a crime scene at some point?"

"The house was not."

"Was the garage?"

"You need to talk to Mac."

"She won't tell me anything."

"Give her time."

"I am trying."

"What has she told you, so far?"

"That she didn't cheat on me."

"That's it?"

"But there is still a possibility that the baby isn't mine. I don't know what to believe. I just want to know what happened. Why won't she talk to me?"

"I don't know. What are you still doing at the house if she's not there?"

"She told me to put the crown molding back up."

"She did?"

"Yes, why do you sound surprised?"

"Did she show you the paint?"

"Lavender and grey aren't the colors I would have chosen, but it is her house."

"What about the other rooms?"

"No, why? Did she continue with her marine green theme?"

"I don't believe so. I haven't actually seen the paint. I only saw paint samples."

"Should I be worried?"

"We're really busy here. I've got to go."

"Harriet?"

She hangs up on him. He carries his nail gun, and air compressor up the stairs. Before he can make it to the first bedroom the doorbell is ringing. He races down the stairs, and pulls the door open, just in time to find the UPS man driving away. He stares at the box sitting in front of him. He studies it carefully. He drags it into the house. He bumps into a table in the entry way. The table tips, and the drawer nearly falls out before he can balance it. A piece of paper inside of the drawer catches his eye. It is an index card with a number written on it.

Twenty minutes later he finds himself at the courthouse. He stops in the clerk's office. He flashes the young clerk a smile.

"Excuse me, can you tell me which courtroom this case is in?"

She glances at the number, "Six," she answers.

He nods, "Thank you," and scurries off.

He quietly enters courtroom number six. He finds Sarah sitting on the stand. She briefly glances up, making eye contact. The defense attorney clears his throat.

"Answer the question please," he directs her.

She shifts her focus to the defense attorney, "I know both of the defendants."

"And isn't true that you prosecuted them?"

"Objection! Prejudicial." Counsel argues.

"Speaks to motive," defense counsel counters.

"Overruled," the judge announces, "Answer the question," he directs.

"Yes," she confirms.

"And you believe that they were guilty?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Did it make you angry when they were convicted of lessor charges?"

"Yes."

"One could say that you had a personal vendetta against them."

"A personal vendetta?" She cocks an eyebrow, "No, I did not."

"Isn't it true that you felt they deserved harsher punishment?"

"Yes."

"So when you saw them again you decided that you were going to be the judge, the jury, and the executioner?"

"Objection, draws for a conclusion," the prosecution chimes in.

"Withdrawn," the defense attorney responds. He walks back to the table, and glances at paperwork. He re-approaches, "You shot at both of the defendants. How do we know that your account of the events is true? How can we know that you are not merely trying to defend your own actions?"

"You're kidding me, right?" She responds.

"Why should we believe your story over the defendants' testimony?"

"Forensic evidence," she answers.

"I am glad that you brought that up," he smirks, "Forensic evidence puts a gun in your hands. Forensic evidence has you shooting at my clients. The x-ray reports show that if the bullet had been a few millimeters closer that both of them would be dead right now. Why should we believe your account of events?"

"Objection," the prosecution stands up, "defense is badgering the witness."

"Sustained," the judge agrees.

"When is your due date?"

"Objection," prosecution responds, "relevance?"

"Your honor if you would just give me a little latitude," the defense implores.

The judge nods, "A little."

"When is your due date?" The defense repeats.

She exhales, "June sixth."

"June sixth. How many weeks after September fifteenth is that Miss MacKenzie?"

She swallows hard, "About thirty eight."

"How many weeks are between the date of conception, and an estimated due date, usually?"

"Thirty eight."

The prosecution rises, "Your honor I object to this line of questioning."

The prosecution continues without waiting on the judge to respond, "Does the child that you are carrying belong to one of the defendants?"

"Your honor!" The prosecution cries.

"I'd like to hear the answer. Miss MacKenzie please answer the question."

"I don't know," she admits.

"Is there a possibility that the child you're pregnant with does belong to one of the defendants?"

"Yes."

"You expect us to believe your story despite the fact that you could possibly be carrying the child of one of…"


	16. Words I Couldn't Say

The judge cuts him off, "I've heard enough. Counsel please approach."

The judge covers the microphone. Counsel approaches. She looks at the defense counsel.

"Mister Graham what are you trying to prove here?"

"Reasonable doubt," defense responds.

"Reasonable doubt? Mister Graham are you trying to play on the jurors emotions?"

"I am trying to exonerate my clients."

"By proving what?"

"If her account of things is true, she wouldn't be keeping the baby."

"I don't think that her decision to keep the baby has any bearing on whether or not what she is saying is true," the judge points out.

"Your honor, I believe that is for the jury to decide," defense responds.

"I would like to remind you that three of your jurors are mothers. Six of them are parents. If you want to continue with this line of questioning it is up to you, however I will caution you to tread lightly."

"Absolutely," he nods in agreement.

"You may proceed."

The defense counsel returns to his previous spot, "You expect us to believe that despite your testimony of what you alleged my clients did to you, that you would choose to keep the baby, even if it might belong to one of them?"

"I expect you to believe it because it's true."

"So then you would consent to a DNA test?"

"A DNA test would not prove your claim that your clients are innocent," Mac retorts.

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

"Not today," she answers.

"Do you have something to hide?"

"No."

"Then why won't you consent to a DNA test?"

"I said that I wouldn't consent to one today," she responds.

"When would you consent to one?"

"Sometime in June."

"The defense rests," he returns to his seat.

Prosecution rises, "I move for a recess your honor."

The judge nods, "This court will recess until nine am tomorrow," she bangs the gavel, "You may step down."

The prosecution escorts Mac out of the courtroom. Harm grabs her hand, and leads her out a side door. She follows him down the steps, and to her car. Once he's certain that there is no media around he motions for her to leave. They both return to the house. By the time he enters the house she's lying on the floor, in the living room, on her back. She is still wearing her slacks, and dress shirt. He hovers over her.

"Mac what are you doing on the floor?"

"It's more comfortable than the couch."

"In what world?"

"For my back."

He lies down next to her, "Sarah, talk to me, please."

"I don't know what to say."

"Why don't we start with the crown molding that I put up?"

"Okay," she sighs in relief.

"When did you start liking the color blue?"

"I don't know."

"You got a package today," he adds.

"Did the baby monitor come?"

"It wasn't a baby monitor. It was a stroller."

"I didn't order a stroller," she admits.

"It was from Clayton."

"That was sweet."

"You told him, before you told me?"

"I saw him before I saw you. It's not as if I can hide it."

"Why did he send you a double stroller? On that note, why are there dinosaur blankets in the laundry room?"

"I love dinosaurs."

"I know. Are you planning on putting your daughter in dinosaur pajamas?"

"No."

"You're planning on putting someone in them."

"Not my daughter," she admits.

"Imagine my surprise when I went into what used to be your office, to put the crown molding back up, and I find a second crib."

"I should have told you."

"There are a lot of things that you should have told me."

"I'm sorry."

"Why don't you tell me about the bullet holes in the garage?"

"You know that if the prosecution fails to win that I will probably being going on trial."

He furrows his brow, "For what?"

"Attempted murder."

"If you wanted to kill someone you wouldn't attempt it."

"That isn't what the prosecution will argue."

"How do you know?"

"They'll say that my motor skills were impaired."

"You had been drinking?"

"No."

"Then why would they say that?"

* * *

_As he pulls the syringe away from her arm she feels her muscles begin to become flaccid. Suddenly she finds it hard to move, or fight back. The movements she does make are uncoordinated at best. She can't free her arms, and they remain penned above her head. She wants to scream but she feels as if she's paralyzed. One of the assailants pens her arms down as the other straddles her. As he proceeds to undress her she can feel blood trickling from wound to her head onto the seat of the car. She closes her eyes hoping that when she opens them that all of this will have just been a nightmare. _

_ When she opens her eyes the nightmare that she's living in only continues. She watches in horror as they trade places in the car. When it's over they both exit the vehicle. She hears them talking outside of the vehicle._

"_What do you want to do with her, Joe?"_

"_Seth, put an end to her," he answers._

_She hears footsteps. She begins to regain muscle control. She reaches under the seat with her right hand. She hears a click, and feels metal against her head. She pulls her hand out from under the seat, and fires a round. She hits him in the shoulder. As he stumbles backwards Joe moves towards her. He leans into the vehicle. She squeezes off another round. It hits him in the chest. The two of them lie on the floor bleeding for several moments. She manages to gather enough strength to shift into a sitting position. Her head throbs as she sits up. She feels dizzy, and lies back down. She loses consciousness. The next thing she knows she hears sirens. She looks around the garage. She finds the garage door wide open. _


	17. What's Love Got To Do With It?

"Why didn't you call me? I would have come home."

"What would I have said?"

"That you needed me."

"That has never been enough before," she reminds him

"I never should have left."

"I tried to get you to stay."

"If I had none of this would have ever happened."

"You don't know that," she argues.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either," he reminds her.

"That isn't how the defense makes it sound."

"What is there take on it?"

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me," he insists.

* * *

_The defense approaches the stand. One of the defendants sits on the stand. He smiles charmingly at the jury. He is dressed in an expensive suit. He wears a Rolex on his left wrist. _

"_Mister Masterson, tell me what happened on the night of September fourteenth."_

"_Seth and I went to Miss MacKenzie's house."_

"_Why?"_

"_She invited us the last time that we spoke."_

"_When was that?"_

"_We saw her at a coffee shop the day before."_

"_What happened when you got to her house that night?"_

"_She said that she wanted us to meet her in the garage."_

"_Why?"_

"_I don't know," he shrugs._

"_What happened then?"_

"_She said that her husband was out of town. She wanted to get back at him for leaving."_

"_Get back at him, how?"_

"_By cheating on him."_

"_She is an attractive woman, so you agreed to assist?"_

"_Yeah," he nods._

"_Did you have sex with her?"_

"_Consensual sex," he answers._

"_In the backseat of her car?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So she had sex with both you, and Seth Brant on the same night?"_

"_Yes."_

"_What happened after the events in the backseat of her car?"_

"_She heard a car outside, and she was afraid that it was her husband. She pulled the gun out from under her seat, and shot at us."_

"_She succeeded, didn't she?"_

"_I thought she was going to kill us."_

"_She did shoot you didn't she?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So what happened after that?"_

"_We left. We later found out later that she had gone to the hospital."_

"_Why?"_

"_At first I assumed that it was due to the injuries she sustained."_

"_Please explain what you mean by that."_

"_She liked it rough. I think it was a game for her."_

"_So why do you think that she is claiming that it wasn't consensual?"_

"_I think that she had regrets. She didn't want her husband to find out. She had to make that claim to corroborate what she said about shooting us in self-defense."_

* * *

"Mac the jury believes you."

She doesn't say anything.

"I believe you," he adds.

"I don't know if the jury believes me or not," she admits.

"They will. The prosecution will make their case."

"I hope so."

"It's going to be okay," he promises her.

"You don't know that," she argues. He scoots over to the couch. He shifts into a sitting position. She sits up, and crosses her legs in front of her.

"You will get through this."

"Some days I am not so sure of that."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know if I can do this."

"The trial."

She shakes her head, and places her hand on her stomach, "This."

"How long have you wanted to be a mom? Sarah you will be amazing."

She swallows hard, "Yeah, but I didn't want it like this."

"I know."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That…" she bites her lip, and swallows hard.

"That, what?"

Tears begin to form in her eyes, "What if I can't do this? What if I can't love them?"

He shakes his head, "Sometimes you are unbelievable."

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you think that you couldn't love them?"

"I…" she trails off.

"Sarah, you already do."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. Do you know how I know?"

She shrugs. He places his hand on her stomach, "Because they're right there."

"What if that's not enough? What if I can't do this? What if after all of this I don't want them?" She responds with a pained facial expression.

"Why would you even consider that you're going to feel that way? No matter what, they're yours."

She swallows hard as the tears begin to trickle down her face, "But I don't think that they're yours."

"That's okay."

"No, it's not. From the second that I found out, my gut has said that they're not yours."

* * *

_She stares at the shades of black, white, and grey on the screen. She listens as the sound of a beating hearts fills the room. She feels her own heart rate shifts into an arrhythmia as the physician freezes the image. Her eyes fixate on the screen. She blinks, believing that she's seeing things. The doctor points to the screen._

"_Sarah do see this?"_

_She swallows hard, "I hope that I'm seeing things," she responds._

"_You're not."_

"_So I am not seeing double?"_

"_No. There are definitely two babies in there."_

"_Oh."_

"_You don't sound excited. Are you nervous?"_

"_I don't know what I am," she admits._

"_Have you told Harm yet?"_

"_He's out of town."_

"_Who would have guessed that after all of the years of trying with no success that the two of you would conceive twins with no assistance?"_

"_I don't know if we did."_

_The doctor furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"_

"_I didn't know that your nurse worked in the E.R., too."_

"_Gabby? She only works there on an as needed basis. She is there SANE nurse. She…"_

"_I know what it stands for. I know what she does."_

"_When did you see her?"_

"_Eight weeks ago," she admits._

_Her physician looks at the screen. She studies the images on the screen, and swallows hard, "Oh."_


	18. Nameless

_ She lies in bed that night, following her doctor's appointment. She wrestles with the covers, and winds up tangled in the sheets. She flips on the light, and attempts to free herself from her restraints. She opens the drawer of her bedside stand. She pulls out the sonogram images. She thumbs through them, one by one. For years her thoughts have been consumed by the thought of having a child. After having the adoption fall through, she had finally resigned herself to the fact that she was never going to make that dream a reality. _

_ After longing to be pregnant, for so long, she questions whether this is what she wants or not. She feels herself surrounded by uncertainty and fear. She doubts her abilities, and questions whether she has the strength to see this through. She recounts her discussion with her OB/GYN. An amniocentesis could be done early enough to determine paternity, and still allow her time to terminate the pregnancy._

_Weeks later she sits in the exam room of her physician's office. The doctor enters the room, and takes a seat. She holds onto Sarah's chart. By this point Sarah has started to show. She is, however still able to conceal her bump to those around her. She's already had to have the waist of her uniforms taken out. _

"_Today is the day that we can do the amniocentesis. Once we collect the sample I'll put a rush on the labs. I can have the results before the day is over. You can make your decision after that."_

"_I don't want the amniocentesis."_

"_You changed your mind?"_

"_The last time that I was here you told me that you knew what the sex of baby A was. I have seen them, and heard their heartbeats. I can feel them move. I spent all of this time waiting to find out for sure before I made my decision. And now, I don't think that I can do it."_

"_Legally you can still…"_

_Sarah cuts her off, "But I can't," she admits._

"_You don't have to make this decision today."_

"_I already have."_

* * *

"I know that you don't want to be married to me anymore, but I want you to know that no matter what I will always be here for you."

"Your past actions do not support that."

"I was a fool in the past," he admits.

"I want to believe you, but I just can't."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't stay here," she reminds him.

"Why did this case go to trial?"

"Neither of the defendants will admit to their guilt."

"They're guilty."

"I know that, and you know that, but the jury has to be convinced."

"They will be."

"And, if they're not do you have any idea what the consequences will be?"

"You're not going to be put on trial," he assures her.

"It is a possibility."

"I will defend you."

"If they aren't proven guilty, and either of them…" she trails off.

"If either of them, what?"

"Do you have any idea what could happen if one of them is the father?"

"What do you mean?"

"They could petition the court for custody. If I'm in prison for attempting to murder them, I don't think that they will have much difficulty winning."

"That will never happen," he promises her.

"But it is a possibility."

"I would never let that happen."

"How would you stop them?"

"I would disappear with them."

"And if you got caught you would be in prison too."

"It's not going to come down to that."

He helps her off the floor. They make their way to the couch. She stretches out, lying her head in his lap.

"When was the last time that you got any sleep?" He asks as he brushes her hair off her face.

"Last night," she fibs.

"More than a couple of hours?"

"I can't remember. I wake up for every little noise that I hear."

"You look so tired."

"I am exhausted."

"Why don't you try to close your eyes, and get a little rest? You have the next eighteen years to face sleep deprivation."

He takes the couch cushion, and positions it under her head. She closes her eyes, and tries to get some rest. At some point her hands find their way to her stomach. Her hands rest on her stomach as she sleeps. He watches her for half an hour, before he slips off the couch. He tiptoes out of the room, and heads up the stairs. He finds himself standing in a purple and grey nursery. He inhales the scent of freshly laundered baby clothes. He takes a seat in the glider in the corner of the room. He tries to imagine the little girl who will soon occupy this room.

Hours later the sound of footsteps jars him from his sleep. He looks up, and finds Sarah standing in the doorway. She flips the light on in his face.

"What are you doing in here?" She questions.

"I was just in here trying to picture her," he admits.

"Who?"

"The baby."

"She's pretty."

"How do you know? You haven't met her yet."

She grabs a book off the dresser. She flips it open, and hands it to him. He stares at the 3-d image of the little girl. He smiles, and looks up at Sarah.

"She looks just like you," he admits.

"If you say so."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Have I ever been able to stop you?"

He proceeds without explicit permission. "What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one."

He furrows his brow, "What do you mean? I've seen the list before."

"Neither of them have a name."

"Why not?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"Are you afraid that if you name them that you'll be too attached?"

"I…"


	19. The End Of The Block

When she gets back from her morning jog she finds Harm sitting on the front steps, waiting on her. He grins at her as if he knows something that she doesn't. He holds out a bottle of water. She slips it from his hands, and shoots him a questioning look.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It's something," she argues.

"I was just looking at you."

"Stop," she insists.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"You look beautiful."

She furrows her brow. She can feel her hair adhered to her forehead with sweat. She is sweaty, and her under armor jacket clings to her. Her athletic pants stick to her legs.

"I'm sweaty, and gross," she argues.

"You're radiant, and glowing," he comments.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. I wanted to tell you the good news."

"You put the stroller together?"

"I found a place," he admits.

"Great."

"Aren't you going to ask where?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Do you know that cute little house at the end of the street?"

"The one with the atrocious yard?"

"That is the one."

"What about it?"

"I bought it."

"Excuse me? I didn't know it was for sale."

"It went into foreclosure."

"You're going to be my neighbor?"

"I am going to go unpack all of my boxes."

"Okay."

"Can I take Sydney?"

"Permanently?"

"For a visit?"

"Fine," she agrees.

He rises from his seat. He kisses her on the cheek. "See you later."

She sighs in relief as she watches him head down the block. She enters the house, making a beeline for the kitchen. She finds a stack of papers lying on the countertop of the island. She stops in her tracks when she sees his signature. Her phone rings before she has the chance to thoroughly review the dissolution papers.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Sarah, I wanted to call you with the good news."

"What good news? The trial has been going on for two weeks."

"We delivered closing arguments today."

"And?"

"And they were both found guilty on all charges."

"Thank you," she hangs up.

She lies on the couch that night, hoping that sleep will come. She tosses, and turns contemplating going to her bed. She hears the clock on the wall ticking. After an hour she finally gives up on the concept of sleep. She heads to the front door in her pajamas. She pulls a hooded sweatshirt over her bump. She laces up her sneakers, and grabs her keys. She begins walking down the sidewalk. She doesn't realize where she's headed until she stops across the street from Harm's newly purchased house. She takes a deep breath, and crosses the street. She climbs the three steps onto his porch. She stops at the door. She hesitates. She doesn't see any lights on inside. She considers turning around, and walking home. Just as she's convinced herself that this is a bad idea the door opens.

"Are going to stand outside in the cold all night?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"Sydney was going crazy," he admits.

"Right."

He ushers her into the house. She finds that the living room is completely empty.

"I would offer you a place to sit, but there is no furniture in here. There does happen to be a few stools in the kitchen, if you'd like."

"Lead the way," she agrees.

He leads her into the kitchen. She proceeds to take a seat on the barstool. He takes a seat next to her.

"Sarah why are you walking around the neighborhood at midnight? Do you have a death wish?"

"It is twelve twenty three," she corrects him.

"Why are you walking around at this time of night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you came here?"

"I went for a walk, and somehow I ended up here."

"What's on your mind?"

She shrugs.

"Let's talk about something other than babies, and trials," he suggests.

"Okay," she agrees.

"I think that we should go back to couples counseling."

"You signed the divorce papers," she reminds him.

"That doesn't mean that we can't work on our relationship."

"I don't think we can fix our relationship. Too much damage has been done."

"I think that we should try," he argues.

"What is the point? We both want different things."

"We do?"

"You want to run off and save the world, and I just want…"

He interrupts, "What do _you_ want, Sarah?"

"A normal life."

"What makes you think that I don't want that too?"

"Every time we get anywhere close to normal you run off."

"Do you really intend to do this on your own?"

"Some days I don't know what my intentions are."

"What do you mean?"

"What would happen if I decided not to keep them?"

"You painted nurseries," he reminds her.

"I am scared," she admits.

"What are you afraid of?"

"That I'll become my mother."

"Sarah you would never walk away from them."

"What if I did?"

"You wouldn't. Why are you still awake?"

"I can't sleep. I try, but I am not very successful."

"What keeps you up at night?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Every noise. Every thought."

"Be specific."

"I can't go to sleep because when I sleep I dream. My dreams always turn into nightmares."

"They're just dreams."

"Mine aren't," she argues, "I wake up, and before I can catch my breath I realize that my nightmares are reality."

"So every night when you close your eyes you relive what happened?"

"Sometimes I dream about other things."

"Some of the dreams have to be pleasant," he argues.

"I dream about them playing on a swing set in the backyard."

"That sounds like a good dream," he points out.

"I always wake up feeling conflicted."

"Why?"

"In my dream they're not yours."


	20. Daytime Dreaming

_Within half a second of waking up she is headed to the bathroom. She proceeds to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. When she's finished she brushes her teeth, and heads into her closet. She grabs her uniform, and returns to the bathroom for a shower. At some point during her routine she flips autopilot on. As she buttons her uniform the reality that she has been trying to deny for weeks hits her like a ton of bricks. She realizes that her uniform is beginning to fit snuggly. She sighs in defeat. _

"_I don't want to do this," she tells her reflection in the mirror. As she turns to leave the bathroom the feelings of guilt creep up on her again._

* * *

He watches her as she sleeps in his bed. He watches her chest as it rises and falls. Her eyes are closed, and finally she's drifted off to sleep. His eyes drift to her abdomen. He can't help but stare at her growing stomach. At one point they discussed having a baby on a daily basis.

She wakes up in an empty bed in someone else's house. She throws back the covers, and exits the bed. She heads down the stairs. She hears him in the other room using the drill. She grabs Sydney on her way out. She jogs down the block, with the dog by her side. She doesn't stop until she gets home. Her first instinct is to jump into the shower. She walks past the nursery, and finds herself being drawn into the room.

She takes a seat on the floor in the room with blue and grey walls. Her hand rests on the bottom of her stomach. Sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib, she still feels conflicted. She feels as if she is surrounded by a cloud of uncertainty. In a few months her womb will be empty, and there will be two more people in the world. She will be responsible for two tiny human beings. She knows that she should be happy. She should feel completely overjoyed. She has waited for this moment for so long. She pushes herself off the floor, and pushes the thought from her mind. She heads into the bathroom to take a shower. By the time that she manages to get dressed she is back to feeling numb.

She exits the house, and heads into the driveway, with the intention of going to the grocery store. She finds Harm leaning against her car. She furrows her brow.

"Why are you standing out here?"

"You stole my dog."

"She's our dog, and she's inside taking a nap."

He notes the keys in her hand, and the purse on her shoulder, "Where are you headed?"

"The grocery store."

"When did you get a new car?"

"I certainly couldn't drive the one that I had."

"When I left you had barely had it for a year."

"I didn't have much choice," she admits.

He uncrosses his arms, "What do you mean?"

"It was evidence."

He nods, and decides that the best course of action is to change the subject, "Do you want some help?"

"At the grocery store? No I think that I am capable of taking myself to the grocery store."

"I am sure that you are."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I guess that I thought you might like the company."

"I'm fine."

"I could drive."

"I am not an invalid. I am capable of driving."

"I don't think that is going to be true for much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"I imagine that at some point you won't be comfortable behind the steering wheel anymore."

"Are you questioning my driving abilities?"

He smirks, and shakes his head, "No, I am questioning your ability to continue to fit behind the steering wheel."

"I don't have that much longer."

"June is still a couple of months away."

"The doctor anticipates that I will go into labor closer to May sixth than June sixth."

"Why is that?"

"Twins are generally born about four weeks earlier."

"What if they're not?"

"They will be monster babies."

"What do you mean?"

"Generally due to the lack of space twins have they measure a little bit smaller."

"Is that not true in your case?"

"No. They always measure a couple of weeks bigger."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugs, "Nothing other than they may be a little bigger than the typical set of twins."

"Does that scare you?"

"That particular part of the equation doesn't bother me too much."

"So what are you getting at the grocery store?"

"The usual," she answers.

"Maybe I should tag along, my cabinets are pretty bare."

"I have a stop to make before I go to the grocery store."

"So?"

"I have a doctor's appointment."

"You don't want me to go with you?"

She furrows her brow, "You would want to go?"

"Absolutely."

"We need to leave now, or we'll be late."

He nods, and climbs into the passenger's seat.

When they arrive at the doctor's office the waiting room is full of pregnant women. Within a few minutes the nurse ushers them back to an exam room. After several more minutes of waiting the doctor enters the room. She shoots Sarah a smile, followed by a questioning look. She looks at Harm, who sits on a chair next to Sarah, waiting patiently.

"Harm I didn't know that you were back in town," she admits.

"I've been back for a few weeks," he reveals.

She looks at Sarah, "Are you ready to take a look at these babies?"

"As I'll ever be," she responds.

Within a couple of moments baby A appears on the screen. The doctor freezes the image to do a couple of measurements. Harm watches the monitor, completely fascinated. She moves onto baby B.

"Is he sucking his thumb?" Rabb questions.

"Yep. Last time his sister waved at us," the physician confirms.

Harm listens closely as the physician evaluates each of the baby's heartbeats. He is grinning from ear to ear by the time that they are finished.


	21. Cold

The car ride home from the grocery store is mostly silent. Three minutes away from Sarah's house Harm finally breaks the silence. He looks over at her. She wears an intense look on her face as she focuses her attention on the road.

"Sarah?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answers.

"No, you're not. You've barely said two words since your appointment this morning."

"I'm fine," she argues.

"Talk to me," he begs.

"Promise me that you won't get your hopes up," she responds.

"Hopes up about what?"

"That they're yours," she responds.

"Would it be the end of the world if they were?"

She briefly glances over at him, "No. Nothing would make me happier."

"But?"

"I don't think that they are."

"I think that you're letting fear cloud your judgment."

"No, I'm not," she insists.

"What makes you so sure?"

"We tried to have a baby for almost ten years. We never succeeded. I have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I am pregnant at all. Every morning I wake up, and I am still surprised. I find it incredibly difficult to believe that after all of the time, and effort, and money that we spent trying to conceive that it would happen without any assistance. The idea of you getting me pregnant with twins at my age… it's damn near impossible."

"Stranger things have happened."

"Do you have any idea what this is like for me?" She replies in a bitter tone, as they pull into her driveway.

"How could I? You never talk about it."

She puts the car into park, and kills the engine. She unfastens her seatbelt, and turns towards him.

"I should be thrilled. This should be the happiest time in my life. We tried to have a baby for nine years without any success. I should be completely overjoyed by the fact that I'm pregnant. I am having twins I should be so excited that I could do a back handspring."

"I don't know what you should be feeling. What are you feeling?"

"Conflicted. I wanted to have a baby more than anything."

"I know."

"But I didn't want it like this. I have to spend every single day up until the birth wondering what they are going to look like. I have to question who they belong to. I don't know how I am going to feel when they are born. What happens if they aren't yours? I don't know if I can handle that. I don't know if I can look at them every single day for the rest of my life, and be okay. If I can, I don't know what I would say to them. How would I explain this to them when they ask? How am I supposed to explain what happened to a child? My child?"

"You tell them the truth."

"The truth? A preschooler will not be able to understand the truth."

"You have to be honest."

"And have them spend their entire childhood feeling as if I didn't want them?"

He locks eyes with her, "Do you?"

"What?"

"Do you want them?"

She chokes back tears, "I don't know."

He squeezes her hand.

"I want to want them," she admits as the tears begin to fall from her eyes.

"I know."

"I don't know if I will ever be able to love them."

"You will," he tells her.

"You don't know that."

"I know you," he reminds her.

"So?"

"I know that the second that you lay eyes on them nothing else is going to matter."

"You don't know that," she argues.

"Trust me."

"I don't know how to do this."

"You will figure it out."

"And I have to do it alone."

He shakes his head, "Where do you get that idea?"

"What other option do I have?"

"Who said that you have to do this alone?"

"No one."

"Sarah you do not have to do this alone."

"Yes, I do," she argues.

"I will help you."

"You say that, but you'll change your mind."

"Why do you think that?"

"When they're born, and you realize that they're not yours, you will change your mind."

"What if that doesn't happen?"

"You mean what if they're yours?"

He shakes his head, "What if I don't change my mind?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"Did you submit the dissolution of marriage paperwork yet?"

"Not yet," she admits, "I've been busy."

"Then let's table that discussion for now."

"I…"

He cuts her off, "For once in your life just let me help you."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why not?"

"In the back of my mind I am always going to wonder when you're going to decide that all of this is too much, and just walk away."

"I am not going anywhere."

"I want to believe you."

"I am going to keep saying it until you do."

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it," she responds.

"I am going to prove it to you," he insists.

"I don't want the groceries to spoil," she changes the subject.

"Okay," he agrees.


	22. Misery

Midnight comes, and goes, and she doesn't find sleep. She climbs out of her bed. Her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor. They smack against the floor as she waddles out of her room. She makes her way down the hall into the first room to her left. She flips on the light, and enters the room. She stops in front of the crib. She peers inside of the empty crib. She finds a note lying inside the crib. She reaches inside, and removes the note scrawled on a yellow piece of paper from a legal pad. The note is folded into thirds. She moves across the room, and flips on a lamp that is situated on a nearby dresser. She takes a seat in the glider. She stares at the note in silence. She finds two words scrawled on the outside of the note in familiar handwriting. The words, _Baby Girl,_ are written on the outside. She carefully unfolds the note and begins to read.

_Baby girl,_

_I haven't gotten to meet you yet. You won't be here for weeks, and weeks. You don't have a name yet, though I suspect that your mother has narrowed the choices down. If she has, she certainly hasn't shared them with me. I can't wait to meet you. You are already loved so much. _

_Love,_

_Dad._

She puts the note down, and goes across the hall into her son's room. She finds a note in his crib too. The note is nearly identical, except for who it is addressed to. She reads the note to herself. She stands next to the crib in silence. She looks around the room. The room has been painted, and there are clothes in the closet. The room is pretty bare. There are no decorations, only furniture. There is no bedding in the crib, just a mattress. Both rooms are equally as bare.

She grips the side of the crib with both hands. She tries to picture the room once it is finished. She attempts to picture the rooms once there are babies occupying them. She feels her heart skip a beat. She knows that she should feel excited, but the only thing she feels is anxiety.

Once the sun rises she goes for her morning jog. As her shoes make contact with the concrete, she scoffs at the idea of a jog. She thinks about her pace, and realizes that at some point her jog turned into speed walking. She's so consumed in thought that she pays little attention to her location. She has a leash in her left hand. Her earbuds are secured in her ears, and her ipod is secured in a sleeve clipped to her arm. Sydney begins tugging at her leash, in the opposite direction. She looks down at the golden retriever.

"Stop," she tells her. The dog proceeds to ignore her. Sarah stops in her tracks in an attempt to redirect the dog. Sydney continues to pull. Sarah turns around, and finds Harm walking towards her. She pulls the earbuds out of her ear as he stops next to Sydney.

"Didn't you hear me?"

She furrows her brow, "No."

"I hollered at you when you walked past the house."

She looks around, and realizes that she's two blocks away from his house, "Have you been following me since then?"

"I had just stepped out to get the newspaper when I saw you. I didn't have shoes on. I had to go back in the house, and get some. By the time I got back outside you were halfway down the block."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes.

"You were moving pretty quickly."

"Nowhere near as quick as I used to."

"I had to run to catch up to you."

"I doubt that."

"I didn't realize how out of shape I was," he admits.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I can't even keep up with a woman who is eight months pregnant."

She rolls her eyes, "I was just walking."

He shakes his head, "What are you talking about? You jogged past the house."

She shrugs, "It feels like speed walking."

"I can assure you that it wasn't."

"You're just saying that, because you would look really out of shape if you couldn't keep up with me, and I was walking."

"You seemed pretty intense. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"You were thinking about something," he argues.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," her hands come to rest on her stomach.

He furrows his brow, "Be pregnant?"

"Jog."

"You have bigger things to worry about," he points out.

"Everything is going to change," she realizes.

"Yeah."

"I like my routine," she adds.

"You are a creature of habit," he admits.

"I know."

"Sarah, what is this really about?"

"I don't even enjoy my morning jog anymore," she responds.

"Then quit."

"You don't understand."

"So make me understand."

"I love coming out every morning to jog."

"You just said that you don't enjoy it anymore."

"I can't go as far, or as fast as I used to. I can't go too far from home, because inevitably I always have to pee."

He smirks. She frowns, "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you are ridiculous. You are too hard on yourself. Sarah you are eight months pregnant, with twins. The fact that you can even make it down the block amazes me."

"I have to sit on the couch to tie my shoes, because when I bend over I can't reach my laces."

He grins, "For the first time in your life you have to be normal."

She cocks an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"You thought that you would be unaffected by the changes of pregnancy, didn't you?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because of your complaints."

"What do you mean?"

"You're tired of being pregnant already, aren't you?"

"I am tired all of the time," she answers.

"You pretend that you're not."

"I have to pee every ten minutes."

"And it pisses you off," he suggests.

"I feel like I have one baby on my bladder, and the other in my lung."

"Are you afraid of the changes that you're going to have to make when they get here?"

"I feel like I'm being selfish," she answers, "How am I supposed to do anything but devote my life to them? There are two of them."

"You're having a hard time picturing it?"

"Can you picture me strapping two screaming babies into a stroller, and jogging down the block?"

"I am willing to bet that once you get them in your arms that the rest won't matter."

"What if that isn't true?"

He furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

"What if I'm not cut out for this? What if I am one of those parents who can't change? What if…"

"You're not good enough?"

She simply nods.

"That's not going to happen," he reassures her.


	23. Sleeping With The Devil

"How do you know?" She questions him.

He smiles at her, and reaches for her hand. She allows him to take her hand. He squeezes it, and responds, "Because I know you."

"But…"she tries to argue.

He cuts her off, "No matter how many times you have tried to push me away, or keep me out I know you. No matter how much you try to keep the rest of the world from seeing, I know you."

"If you know me so well, then how in the hell did we get here?"

"We're both too damn stubborn," he admits.

She doesn't disagree.

He walks her home in silence. Sydney obediently follows behind them. When they reach her doorstep he doesn't ask to come in, and she doesn't offer. Without a word she hands him the dog leash. He nods, and she continues into the house. He turns, and leaves. She climbs the stairs to the master bedroom. She peels off her jacket, and grabs clean clothes out of the closet. She heads into the bathroom for a shower. Her thoughts race as the warm water hits her skin.

She climbs out of the shower, and wraps a towel around her. She reaches for a second towel to wrap her hair in. As she moves towards the mirror it strikes her how much shorter her towel seems. She stops at the bathroom counter, in front of the mirror. She presses her hand to her stomach. She elicits a kick in the ribs. Her internal dialogue screams at her.

_How am I supposed to do this? I'm not ready for this. There is still so much to do, and hardly anytime. What if I can't do this? What if I'm not good enough? What if this is all a mistake? What if…_

A lump forms in her throat before she can allow herself to finish the last thought. Her glance falls to her stomach. She tries to push the thought from her mind, but it proves impossible. She feels her emotions overcome her as she allows herself to complete the thought.

_What if my gut is right? What if they aren't Harm's? What if I can't love them?_ The sound of someone knocking on her door brings her back to reality. She quickly dries off, and pulls on some clean clothes. She heads down the stairs with her wet hair pulled back into a clip. Her anxiety only grows as she approaches the door. She looks through the peephole, and then unbolts the door. She pulls it open.

"Can I help you?" She questions the man in a black suit.

"Are you Sarah MacKenzie?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"You've been served," he hands her a sealed envelope.

She stands in the doorway, frozen as he walks away. She watches in disbelief as a car backs out of her driveway. After a few moments she is able to regain composure. She closes the door, and heads into the kitchen, flipping on the light in the process. She leans against the kitchen island. She rips the envelope open, and pulls out the contents. She begins reading the document. Tears trail down her cheeks before she can even finish reading. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her pants. She dials a familiar number.

"Sarah, I just left there a few minutes ago, do you need something?"

She swallows hard, "I…um… can you come back?"

"What's going on?"

"Please?"

"I'll be right over," he agrees, hanging up the phone.

Within two minutes she hears his car pull into the driveway. He knocks on the door.

"It's open," she reveals.

He pushes the door open, and steps inside. He sees the light on in the kitchen, and heads its direction. He finds her leaning against the island, crying. He steps forward, without a second thought. He wraps his arms around her.

"I'm right here," he tells her. He expects her to push him away. She doesn't. She clings to him, burying her head in his shoulder. After a few moments he lets go. He pulls out a stool, and assists her into a sitting position.

"Mac, what happened?"

He stands next to her. She faces him. She points to the document sitting on the island, to her right. He looks over at it for a second, but ultimately his attention falls on her. He finds himself staring into her eyes.

"What does it say?"

"It is a petition for DNA."

"Oh."

"I knew that it was possible that," she swallows hard, "one of them would petition for DNA, but I didn't think that it would be now."

"I heard that they are both in the process of filing an appeal."

"They are."

"So what do you plan on doing?"

She shrugs, "I don't know."

"We have time," he reminds her.

"They want the DNA test performed within the next week."

"Then we will appeal," he responds.

"This is unbelievable."

"I know."

She shakes her head, "No, you don't," she raises her voice.

"Then make me understand."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"They think that they can win an appeal if they can prove their case by proving paternity."

"How do they figure that?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"At what point are we going to actually talk about this?"

She looks him in the eyes, "Not today."

"Today," he replies firmly.

"I can't," she argues.

"So then, at what point are we going to actually discuss the elephant in the room, huh?"

"Harm, not now," she begs.

"When are you going to admit to yourself what is really going on? When is this going to become reality for you?"

"I live in this nightmare called reality every damn day!"

"You live in denial," he tries to provoke her.

"I don't need this from you right now."

"Say it, and I will leave you alone."

"Say what? What is it that you want me to say?" Her face grows redder with each passing second.

"What are you afraid of?"

"You know what I'm afraid of," the vein in her head pulsates.

"Tell me! Say it, Sarah!"

"Dammit, Harm!"


	24. Fear

"How are you going to get through this, if you can't even bring yourself to say it? Huh? How are you supposed to move past this, if you don't face it?"

"You don't think that I face it? I face it every single day. I wake up every single morning, and I have a reminder. Every time I breathe, every time I move I am reminded. There is no avoiding it. There is no denying it."

"Denying what?"

Her nostrils flare, "I am eight months pregnant, and I have absolutely no idea who the father is. My best hope is you. You are my best damn hope, and we are legally, physically, financially, and emotionally separated. Each day I wake up, and spend the entirety of the day feeling conflicted. I have wanted a child for so long. I should be happy, but I can't be. I have this huge cloud hanging over my head, and I can't shake it. I chose not to find out the paternity, because quite frankly I didn't want to know. You're right, I didn't want to face it. My fear is that my instincts are spot on, and for the first time in my life I pray that they're not. Every day I pray that I'm wrong. I am having twins. I am scared to death that I won't be able to love them. I shouldn't feel like this. I should have to question whether or not I can love my own children."

"Why?"

"I am scared to death that my wanting them won't be enough to overcome the facts."

"What facts?"

"That I am eight months pregnant with twins, and it is more likely than naught that they are," she visibly cringes, "the product of…" she trails off, "rape."

"Why does that scare you?"

"What if they are?"

"So what if they are?"

"What if they are, and I don't want them? What if I can't love them? What if me wanting to want them, and wanting to love them isn't enough? What if by some tragic twist they win their appeal? What if they can convince someone of a reasonable doubt that will let them off the hook?"

"You're afraid that someone is going to believe their story over yours?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Why?"

"If they win on appeal…"

He cuts her off, "It means nothing."

"It means that at some point they will be free to walk the streets."

"I know."

"If they win, they can…" she trails off. The thought is too much to bear.

"You're afraid that they will try to take the babies?"

She simply nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Sarah, look at me," he demands.

She swallows hard, and wipes the tears from her face with the palm of her hand. She makes eye contact, and he continues.

"That is never going to happen. I promise you. No matter what no one is going to take them from you. I don't care what has to be done, I will not let that happen."

"And if you can't?"

"I will," he vows.

"We're not together anymore," she reminds him.

"I think we should discuss that."

"Harm I don't want to discuss it anymore."

"I do."

"Now is not the time."

He ignores her, and continues despite her protests, "I think that you made a hasty decision."

"What's done is done," she responds.

"Nothing is done," he argues, "We're only separated."

"I don't think that right now is the time to try and fix what went wrong between us."

"Do you plan on doing this all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"You are prepared to take on this responsibility by yourself without help from anyone else."

"Why are you questioning that?"

"Because you are going to need help. You should take the help that is offered to you."

"They're not yours," she tells him.

"You don't know that for certain."

"And you don't know that they're not," she argues.

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

"Either way I am going to help you."

"I don't want your help."

"Sarah," he tries to reason with her, "please let me help you. I don't expect you to change your mind about the divorce. I don't anticipate that you will."

"Then what do you get out of this?"

"A family."

"And if they're not yours?"

"How many times have we discussed this? It doesn't matter to me."

"You're telling me that you are willing to take full and total responsibility as a parent for two children who aren't yours?"

"Yes."

"If you make that choice you understand that you can't just walk away if it gets too hard?"

"I am not going to walk away."

"You have said that in the past."

"Things a different now," he insists.

"Nothing is different," she argues.

"I'm different."

"I want to believe you," she admits.

"Then why don't you?"

"People don't just change overnight. At some point someone is going to call, and want you to fly a plane, or…"

He cuts her off, "I am not going anywhere. Eventually, I am going to make you believe that."

"Today is not that day."

"Can I help you, or not?"

"Yes," she nods.

"I talked to Harriet yesterday."

"What is your point?"

"She wants to have a baby shower for you, but she doesn't know how you feel about the idea."

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want one."

"So you have everything that you need for them?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then why can't she throw you a baby shower?"

"Because, I said no."


	25. D-Day

He enters the nursery, surveying the room. He takes the legal pen out from under his arm, and pulls the ink pen out of his pocket. He hears footsteps smacking against the hardwood floor. He turns towards them. Sarah appears in the doorway, wearing her pajamas. She shoots him a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a list," he answers.

"A list of what?"

"What we still need."

"What _we_ still need for what?"

"Before the babies get here."

"You don't have any idea what they need."

"I didn't come up with the list on my own. I had help from a reputable source."

"When did you talk to Harriet?"

"A little while ago."

"Why are you still here? I thought that you went home."

"I did."

"Then why are you here?"

"I came back to make a list," he answers.

"How did you get in?"

"I used a key," he answers.

"What key?"

"The one that you gave me. I am beginning to think that you're getting senile."

She shakes her head, "I just have a lot on my mind."

"I know. Other than some clothes, and a stroller, you really don't have anything for them. Why is that?"

She furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"

"You love shopping for baby things."

"Not as much as you think."

"I've gone shopping with you before. Remember? Whose baby shower did we go to before I left last time?"

"One of the petty officers at JAG."

"Emily," he recalls, "she had a girl."

"It is not as enjoyable as I expected it to be."

"What makes you say that?"

"The sales people ask too many questions."

"What questions?"

"They want to know when I'm due, and what I'm having."

"Don't they need to know in order to help you?"

"I don't want help."

"Oh."

"Then they ask where the father is, and…" she trails off.

"You feel overwhelmed."

"Then I mention that I'm having twins, and they get too excited."

"I will go shopping with you."

"I don't think that is a good idea."

"You don't have much time left," he reminds her.

"I know."

"Do you have bedding for the cribs?"

"No."

"I saw a few blankets, but not that many."

"I know."

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Let's see… I am going to get up, and waddle around in the closet until I can find something to wear. After my jog I'll come back and take a shower. Then, the rest of my day is free. I am retired," she reminds him.

"I'll pick you up at nine."

"I don't think that I have agreed."

"So then you want me to go without you? I can't make any promises about what I bring back for a little girl."

"No, I don't want you to go without me."

"From the sounds of things you don't really want to go."

"I guess that I don't have much of a choice."

* * *

May 6th—

She wakes up to the sound of expletives coming from down the hall. She opens her eyes, and looks around. It's not even seven o'clock yet. She rolls out of bed, and makes a beeline for the bathroom. After she empties her bladder she heads down the hallway to the sound of Harm's voice. She enters her son's nursery.

"What is the problem?" She questions.

"I am trying to get this thing to go back together. The instructions are in Chinese," he gripes.

She looks at the stroller, and rolls her eyes.

"May I?"

He nods in frustration. She pushes a single button, and the stroller collapses. He stands beside her, looking at her in disbelief.

"You didn't even look at the directions."

"Let me get this straight, you can assemble a plane, but you can't figure out how to use a stroller?"

"Apparently not," he admits.

"That really inspires confidence."

"So…"

"I'm fine," she insists.

"What time is your appointment?"

"Nine thirty."

"We should start getting ready."

"It is six forty five. I think that we have plenty of time. The doctor's office is only ten minutes away."

"Today is supposed to be the day," he reminds her.

"Today is not the day," she argues.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"What if she says that…"

"Today is not the day."

"Do you have everything ready if it is?"

"You know that I do. The car seats were installed weeks ago, and my bag is already in the car."

"What about the diaper bags?"

"They are already in the car."

"Are you sure?"

"Harm I put them in the car myself. Why are you being such a basket case?"

"I'm nervous," he admits.

"You're nervous? You don't get to be nervous."

"Why not?"

"I am the one who has to do all of the work."

He grins, "That's why they call it labor."

"Do you think that at any point in the near future you are actually going to sleep at your own house?"

"I doubt that I'll be sleeping at all anytime in the near future."

"You are aware that you have your own house."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Why would I get lonely?"

"It's just you in a four bedroom house."

She looks down at her stomach. His glances shifts there, too. He wonders if her skin can stretch any further. He doesn't allow that thought to be verbalized. She wears a USMC t-shirt, and a pair of pajama bottoms. He can see the impression of a foot through her t-shirt.

"I haven't been alone in quite a while," she reminds him.


	26. Today

May 13th—

He enters the house with bags of groceries. Sydney greets him at the door. He heads into the kitchen with his arms full of bags. He sets the bags on the countertop.

"Sarah where are you?"

"In the bathroom," she answers from the master bedroom.

"Are you okay?"

She sits on the edge of the bathtub wearing a t-shirt, and a pair of boxer shorts. Her leg is covered in shaving cream, and she's got a razor in her hand. She rolls her eyes, and then responds, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she insists.

"I am going to put the groceries away."

"Okay."

Within a few minutes he standing in the doorway watching her. She looks up at him as she wipes any excess shaving cream off her legs.

"Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to check on you."

"I'm still here."

"I can see that."

"So are they."

"Do you think that today is going to be the day?" He wonders.

"No."

"What time is your appointment?"

"I already went."

"What? I thought that it was at noon."

"I lied."

"Why?"

"Because you're driving me crazy."

"I was only gone for an hour."

"I know."

"You drove yourself to the doctor's office?"

"It takes ten minutes."

"Can you even reach the steering wheel?"

"Yes."

"You could have gone into labor on your way."

"You're losing it," she points out.

* * *

May 20th-

She enters the exam room. The physician proceeds to measure her.

"Sarah I think that it is time we start discussing induction."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"They have run out of room. They have already exceeded our expectations for twins. We generally expect them to be born around thirty six weeks. Quite honestly, we expected them to be here earlier than that."

"Because I am geriatric?" She scoffs.

"I never said that."

"You just called it a geriatric pregnancy."

"You have got to be tired of being pregnant."

"I would enjoy not having a baby on my bladder all of the time," she admits.

"Then you are ready to discuss induction?"

"I told you, I don't think that's necessary."

"They have to come out at some point."

"I've been having contractions since I woke up this morning."

"You have been having contractions on and off for weeks."

"Today is the day," she insists.

"Did you tell your husband that?"

"We're…"

The physician cuts her off, "Separated, I know."

"No, I didn't tell him."

"Where is he?"

"In the waiting room."

"Are you sure that you don't want him in here?"

"Yes," she confirms.

Ten minutes later she enters the waiting room. He rises from his chair to greet her. He remains silent on their walk to the car. He opens the passenger's side door for her, and helps her get in. She fastens her seatbelt as he climbs into the driver's side. He puts the key in the ignition, and closes the door. He reaches for his seatbelt.

"Are you ready to go home?"

"No."

"You want to stop for lunch?"

"No."

"So where are we going?"

"We're going to the hospital," she responds.

He furrows his brow, "We're going where?"

"The hospital."

"Why?"

"Today is the day."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you want me to debate this all afternoon, so that you can deliver them in this car?"

"No," he shakes his head.

He sits in a chair next to her bed. She is wearing a hospital gown. She is connected to an IV, and two fetal heart rate monitors. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail. He glances at the monitor, and then to her face. Her face is bright red, and has sweat beads on her forehead.

The contraction passes, and she looks over at him. She finds him staring at her with a smile on his face. She furrows her brow, and wonders if she should ask. She looks down, and realizes that she has a hold of his hand. She lets go of his hand, but he doesn't move it.

"What are you smiling about?"

"You," he grins.

"Me?"

"Yeah," he nods in confirmation.

"I am wearing a backless gown, and I am connected to more cables than a bridge."

"How long do you think this will take?"

"Are you eager to be somewhere else?"

"Do you really think that I would miss this?"

"You don't have to be here," she reminds him, "I can call you when it's over."

"That's cold, Sarah."

"You don't have to stay."

"I don't want to miss a thing. What if you're wrong? Have you considered that?"

"I'm not," she assures him.

"Do you have scientific evidence to back that up?"

"You know that I do not."

"We'll know soon enough," he comments.

"I guess."

"Are you nervous?"

"About which part?" She cocks an eyebrow.


	27. Birthday

"Any of it?"

"I'm nervous about all of it."

"Is that why you're so antsy?"

"I am antsy because I want to get out of this bed."

"You can't get out of the bed."

"Says who?"

"I don't think that they would approve."

"I have been here for over an hour, and I am at four centimeters. I don't think that if I get out of bed a baby is going to drop on the floor."

"You're hooked up to all of this stuff," he points out.

She pushes a button on the side of her bed-rail. A nurse enters the room.

"Can I help you?"

"Can I get out of this bed?"

"Yes."

"See," Sarah glares at him.

Harm turns to the nurse with a look of concern on his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean what about all of the monitors, and stuff."

"She hasn't had any kind of medication that would impair her ability to walk. With this being her first birth it could easily take another twenty hours. She is dilated to four. Walking will only speed up her labor."

"I thought that she was supposed to stay in bed," he argues.

"She doesn't have to. It is her right to get up and walk, if she wants to."

"What about all of the monitors?"

"We can unhook her temporarily."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Sir, I've been an OB nurse for five years. I will unhook her. We'll take the IV pole with us. I will follow behind her with a wheelchair. We aren't going to be gone that long. Are you going to join us?"

"Five years," he cocks an eyebrow, "You look like your twenty," he says under his breath.

She ignores his comment, and proceeds to help Sarah out of bed. She grabs a wheelchair out of the corner of the room. She helps Sarah put on a second gown, to cover the back half of her body.

"Would you like to assist?" The nurse questions.

"I don't know how I can help."

"You could bring the IV pole."

He nods in agreement. They exit the room. Sarah makes it a hundred feet before a contraction hits her. She leans against the handrail, and breathes in, and out slowly, and purposefully. When the contraction is over, she looks over, and finds Harm standing next to her, holding onto her IV pump. She notices the look on his face.

"I'm okay," she reassures him.

"I don't think that this is a very good idea. Wouldn't you be more comfortable in your room?"

She arches her eyebrow, "In my room, where I can't do anything, but sit in my bed, and wait? No. I don't think that I would."

He nods, as she continues to ambulate down the hallway. They make it to the end of the hallway. The nurse pushes the wheelchair behind them, just in case. Sarah turns to go in the other direction.

"If you get tired let me know, and I'll help you sit down," the nurse reminds her.

"I don't foresee that happening anytime soon. If it were up to her she'd be jogging around the neighborhood this morning."

Sarah glares at him, "Shut up!"

"She's been jogging around the neighborhood three times a day for the past week, trying to persuade them to come out."

The nurse smiles at him, "In my experience they come when they want to. That being said, it doesn't stop most people from trying to help them along."

"I didn't want to be induced," Sarah explains.

"I can understand."

"And I didn't want to schedule a c-section."

The nurse grins, "It must be the marine in you."

"How did you know that she was a marine?" He furrows his brow.

"I am her nurse. I do have access to her chart."

He shakes his head, "It says that in her chart?"

"We discussed it while you were in the bathroom," Sarah reveals.

"Oh."

"I was a marine for five years before I became a nurse."

"What made you decide to become a nurse?" Harm questions.

"I had a baby, and everything changed."

"So you decided to become an OB nurse?"

"I didn't pick it, it chose me."

"What is the longest you've ever seen someone be in labor?" Harm queries.

"Forty hours. After a certain point patients become exhausted, and effective pushing becomes nearly impossible. We usually don't let people go that long, but some people are more determined than others to do things naturally."

"Forty hours?" Mac questions.

The nurse simply nods, "Yep."

Mac looks at the nurse, and grins, "Don't let me go that long."

"I promise," the nurse vows.

After a few more laps Mac returns to her room. The nurse helps her back into bed as Harm returns the IV pole to its previous position in the room. The nurse hooks Sarah back up to the various monitors. The nurse stands next to the bed, and closely monitors the contractions. Harm settles himself back into his chair as Mac squeezes his hand through a contraction. The nurse steps away, and grabs gloves. She returns, stopping at the end of the bed.

"I'm going to check your progress," she tells her.

"Go ahead, Lauren," Sarah agrees.

Harm keeps his eyes locked on Lauren's face as she pulls the sheet back. His glance doesn't shift as her hand disappears under the sheet. After assessing the situation she pulls her hand out, and pulls the sheet back down. Sarah looks at her expectantly, anticipating for her to repeat the number from the previous assessment.

"Still at four?" Harm questions.

Lauren shakes her head, "No."

"Four and a half," Sarah guesses.

"Five," Harm disagrees.

"Nope," Lauren purses her lips, and smiles.

"Are you going to keep us in suspense?" Harm quizzes.

"I thought that you wanted to guess," Lauren responds.

"I would like not to be pregnant anymore," Sarah replies.

"How big did they estimate they were at your appointment?"

"Eight pounds each. There is just no way. There isn't that much room in there for them to be close to that."

"You would be surprised what the human body is capable of."

Mac shakes her head, "No I wouldn't I feel like my lung has shifted into my throat to make room for them.."

Lauren giggles.


	28. Affliction

"We'll folks, we've made it to a solid six," Lauren announces.

"Four more centimeters to go," Sarah comments.

"How is your pain level?" Lauren questions.

"Tolerable, for now," she responds.

"You can have…"

Sarah cuts her off, "I don't want anything."

"If you change your mind you know how to reach me."

Lauren leaves the room. Harm's eyes fall on Mac's face. He notes the serious look on her face.

"Sarah," he whispers.

She looks up at him, "Hm?"

"What are you thinking?"

"Nothing."

"Something," he counters.

"Always," she confirms.

"What are you thinking right now?"

"Everything."

"For example?"

"In a few hours…"

He cuts her off, "Or thirty nine."

She giggles, "They're going to be here."

"Yeah," he nods, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

"And they don't have names."

"We've got time."

"Any suggestions?"

He furrows his brow, "I have a hard time believing that you don't have already have an inkling."

"Nothing seems right," she admits.

"So I can make suggestions without you getting angry?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"I have something that I need to confess."

"Related to names?"

"Yes."

"What do you have to confess?"

"I hoped that you would have trouble picking them out."

"Why would you hope that?"

"Because she already has a name," he reveals.

She furrows her brow, "Excuse me."

"She's had one all along," he adds.

She winces in pain. He waits for the contraction to pass before he continues. Once he's certain that it's over he explains, "Before I even knew that you were pregnant."

"I don't understand."

"I dreamt about her."

She smirks, "You dreamt about her?"

"Apparently you're not the only one who can have dreams."

She locks eyes with him, "This is something I have to hear."

"I thought that you might say that. I figured it would pique your interest."

"So tell me about the dream."

"I dreamt that I was sitting in the backyard, and this little girl comes running up to me with this big smile on her face."

"Oh?" She tries to picture it.

"She was beautiful. She was four, or five, wearing this little dress bringing me flowers," he recalls.

"What did she look like?" She probes.

"Long dark curls, and dimples."

"That's it?"

"She had your eyes," he adds, "And she called me 'daddy'."

"What did you call her?"

"Emerson," he grins.

"Emerson?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Where did that come from?"

He shrugs, "I haven't the slightest idea."

"When did you have this dream?"

"The first night that I was away."

"You want to name her Emerson?"

"Someone does."

"Why Emerson?"

"I don't know. I just know that it's her name."

"What if she comes out, and she's not what you pictured?"

"You have the final say. You can name her whatever you want," he reminds her.

"Don't you think that Emerson is a little bit masculine?"

"I don't know. I just know that it's her name."

"So have you any dreams about this boy?"

"No. You?"

She shakes her head, "I haven't seen him in my dreams."

"What have you been seeing in your dreams, Sarah?"

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me," he insists.

"I keep dreaming about King Solomon," she admits.

He furrows his brow, "King Solomon?"

"And splitting a baby in half."

"What do you think that it means?"

"I am having two babies," she replies.

"I need to ask you something."

"I have never been able to stop you," she reminds him.

"I know that you've considered the possibility that they aren't mine…"

She cuts him off, "I have also considered the possibility that they are."

"Let me finish," he implores.

"Ok."

"I read about this woman who…"

She cuts him off again, "Harm I am not, and will not consider the possibility that I am having fraternal twins who have different fathers."

"Sarah it is a possibility."

"Me becoming an astronaut is also possible, but we both know that is never going to happen."

"If you could handle G-force maybe it would be."

He allows the room to fall silent. He squeezes her hand, and brushes strands of hair from her face. He can't help but notice the look of fear in her eyes. He tries to ignore the affliction that is written in the lines on her face. He listens to the clock on the wall tick, and the monitors in the room beep. She squeezes his hand.

"You don't have to be here," she reminds him, giving him another chance to back out before it's too late.

"Wherever you are, that's where I belong," he responds.

She exhales.

"You're getting restless, aren't you?"

"I've been waiting for this day for months. I am finally here, and I feel like I can't do anything."

"You want to go for another walk?"


	29. Life

3 hours after being admitted to the hospital Lauren enters the room for the umpteenth time. Harm watches as she pulls on a pair of gloves. Within a minute she finishes her examination. She smiles at the two of them. SheG locks eyes with Sarah.

"Well, Marine, are you ready?"

Sarah swallows hard, "Now?"

Lauren begins to break the bed down, "Now," she nods.

"We've only been here a few hours," Harm comments.

"Exercise has a tendency to help with progression of labor."

"So the hundred, or so laps around the floor weren't in vain?" Harm responds.

"Nope."

Lauren proceeds to page the doctor. She rearranges the room. She moves a sterile table towards the bed. She sets up a sterile field. Harm watches as the room begins to fill with people. A nurse stands by each warmer. A neonatologist enters the room. Finally the OB/GYN joins them. The nurse, who is already dressed in her garb assists the physician in applying hers. Once Lauren, and the OB/GYN are gowned, gloved, and wearing face masks they proceed. Harm looks over at Sarah. She looks scared, and vulnerable. He flips on the video camera. She grimaces.

"You can do this," he reminds her.

She takes a deep breath, and tries to mentally prepare herself for what's about to happen. He holds the camera with one hand. A pair of student nurses enter the room at the last minute. They grab gloves, and a gown. One of them takes over camera duty. Harm grabs one leg. The second student grabs the other. He glances at the monitor, and then his eyes fall on General MacKenzie.

"Sarah, give me a big push," the doctor tells her.

He holds her leg, and watches her face turn bright red as she pushes. The nurse keeps a close eye on the monitors. A few seconds pass, and whoever is counting stops. A second contraction hits, followed by the same set of directions. He takes his eyes off Sarah, and sees the top of a head.

"She's got a ton of hair," he grins.

A third push allows the doctor to deliver the head.

"Sarah, I just want a gentle push this time."

"Okay," she nods, keeping her eyes locked on the doctor's face.

He watches as she pushes. The physician carefully delivers the shoulders. "Sarah, reach down, and grab her."

She looks down. Without hesitation she lifts the baby out. Within seconds the baby turns from grey to bright pink as her lungs fill with air. She's screaming by the time that she reaches Sarah's chest. The nurse suctions her mouth nose, and mouth. She rubs her back, stimulating the clearing of her airway. Mac stares at the newborn girl on her chest. Her body, and hair are covered in fluids. The umbilical cord is clamped, and the nurse offers Harm the scissors. He cuts the cord.

"Emerson," Sarah whispers.

The newborn instantly stops crying, and her eyes search for the source of the voice. She stares up at Sarah. The nurse reaches for her. She passes her off to the neonatal team for assessment. Within five minutes it's time for a second baby to enter the world. After one push the doctor instructs Sarah to stop.

"Is something wrong?"

"I just need you to hold off for a minute," she replies as she slips the cord from around the baby's neck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah questions in a panicked voice.

"I want you to push on the next contraction."

After two more pushes the second baby is delivered. Sarah pulls baby B to her chest. His color shifts from grey to pink in a matter of seconds. She stares at the face of a bald headed boy. He's lifted from her chest before she has the chance to memorize his face.

Soon the delivery is over, and staff begins to trickle out of the room. The neonatal nurse wraps up baby A to take her to the nursery. The OB/GYN confers with the neonatologist for a moment. Instead of heading for the door with the baby, the neonatal nurse approaches the bedside. She hands the little girl to Sarah. Within a couple of minutes she's got two babies lying on her chest.

Harm looks over at her. For the first time since he's returned he sees the look of fear dissipate. He sees a look of peace, and serenity. The neonatal nurses standby, waiting impatiently. The doctor shoos them from the room, reminding them of the importance of patient-centered care. Sarah glances up, and finds Harm staring at them. She looks at the little boy, and smiles.

"Solomon."

"Solomon," he repeats.

Eventually the neonatal nurses manage to pry the babies away from her. They whisk them away to the nursery for further evaluation. Sarah shifts positions. She looks physically drained. Harm squeezes her hand, and smiles.

"You did great."

"How long do you think that they're going to keep them?"

He shrugs, "I'm not sure, but they have only had them for five minutes."

"Five minutes too long," she argues.

"They're perfect."

"How big were they?"

"You birthed them," he responds.

"I didn't hear the vital statistics, I was sort of busy."

"Emerson was seven pounds nine ounces and twenty one inches. Solomon was eight pounds and two ounces and twenty two inches."

"What if they're had only been one of them?"

He grins, "You probably would have had a twelve pound baby."

"Yeah," she responds, looking as if she's on the verge of tears.

"Are you okay?"

Her chin quivers, and her brow furrows, "No."

"Talk to me," he begs, afraid of what might come out of her mouth. He takes a deep breath, and tries to mentally prepare himself for the worst case scenario.

"Can you go get them?" She responds, becoming tearful.

"I can't go get them yet."

"I want them back."

"Sarah, as soon as they're done they will bring them back," he reassures her.

"Harm…" she trails off as the tears begin to stream down her face. He grabs a tissue from the bedside table. He wipes the tears from her face.


	30. Undoubted

By the time the nurse returns to the room with the babies Sarah is sound asleep. She checks their bands against the ones on Harm's wrist. Once she's certain that they're in the right hands she quietly leaves the room. He carefully scoops them out of their basinets. He takes as seat in the chair next to Sarah's hospital bed. He gently removes their blankets to get a better look at them. He lays them next to each other on his lap. One wears a pink cap, and other wears a blue one.

They each wear tiny white long-sleeved t-shirts. He studies their facial features. Solomon opens his eyes, and looks up at him. The cool air hits his tiny legs, and his face scrunches in dissatisfaction. Harm kisses his tiny face. He peels the cap off his head. The little boy has a thin layer of dark hair. He quickly replaces the cap. Solomon's eyes snap shut.

He moves onto the little girl lying next to Solomon. She stares up at him with bright eyes. He pushes the cap off her head, and runs his fingers through her thick dark curls. He traces her lips. He instantly recognizes that she's got Sarah's lips. He smiles at the newborn who stares up at him intently.

"Hi, Emerson," he greets her. She begins to squirm, in protest of the cold air.

He repositions the babies, and places their blankets over them. They snuggle into his chest. He can feel Solomon drooling on him. The side of Emerson's face presses against his chest. She raises her eyebrows. Her eyes search for someone. He kisses her forehead.

"I'm right here," he reassures her.

Sarah opens her eyes, and orients herself to her surroundings. She looks to her left, and finds Harm sound asleep in the chair next to her bed. The babies lie on his chest. She pushes aside her covers, and slowly sits up to the side of the bed. She carefully scoots to the edge of the bed. Her socked feet dangle over the side of the bed. She inches to the edge. Her feet hit the ground, and she tests her legs. She takes the three steps required to reach Harm. She presses her hand against one baby. She takes her second hand, and slides it between the baby's chest, and Harm's chest. His eyes fly open. He furrows his brow.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Get back in bed," he warns her.

"But…"

"I will bring them to you."

She begrudgingly returns to the bed. She waits impatiently as he tries to figure out how to rise from the chair while holding two babies. After a moment he rises from the chair, and makes his way over to her. He leans over the bed, next to her. She peels one baby off his chest, and repositions the newborn on her lap. Sarah lies in the bed with her legs stretched out straight in front of her. Emerson rests against one leg. Harm carefully places Solomon next to her.

He places a receiving blanket over their bodies. Sarah studies the two newborns in silence. Emerson's foot pops out from underneath the blanket. Her toes wiggle, disapproving of the cold. Mac gently repositions the newborn's foot under the blanket. Within seconds Emerson kicks her foot out again. Sarah traces the lines on the sole of the baby girl's foot. Her eyes pop open, and she looks up at Sarah disapprovingly.

"Keep your foot covered, and I won't touch it," Sarah tells her. Emerson searches for the sound of her voice. Sarah leans forward, and plants a warm, wet kiss on her cheek. The little girl squirms. Mac runs her finger across the back of Solomon's fist, which rests against his sister's shoulder. His eyes flutter open. He doesn't furrow his brow, or grimace when she touches him. She plants a kiss on his cheek, and she feels his palm against her cheek. She kisses the palm of his hand. Harm clears his throat. She shifts her attention, momentarily.

"Huh?"

"Do you want a minute?"

She simply nods. He quietly makes his way to the door. He steps out of the room into the hallway in an effort to give her a moment of privacy.

She tucks a willful clump of hair behind her ear. She takes a deep breath, and continues to assess her brand new babies. Her daughter lays against her right leg. She watches Emerson's chest rise, and fall for several moments. The baby girl's eyes have gone closed, and she sleeps peacefully. Even in her sleep she seems to pout. Sarah traces her tiny, pouty lips. The baby girl doesn't protest.

A lock of hair sticks out from under her pink cap. Mac carefully tucks the curl up underneath the cap. She scrutinizes the baby's face for quite some time. She carefully assesses each facial feature. She notes the shape of her brow, the size, and shape of her nose. She takes note of her tiny, pouty lips. She exhales, realizing that the only feature she recognizes is the baby's lips. There is no doubt that the newborn girl has her lips.

She feels as if she's piecing together a puzzle. She attempts to assign each feature to someone, but she pushes the idea from her mind. She shifts her glance to the baby lying against her left leg. He stares up at her, contently. His tiny hand now rests on his sister's face. Right away she notices that he has her nose. She pushes his cap off his head, and finds a perfectly shaped head. His lips don't match his sister's, or her own for that matter. He stares up at her with slate colored eyes. As her glance shifts from one baby to another her doubts disappear.

She lifts Solomon off her lap, and places him against her chest. She pats him for a few moments. He presses his ear against her chest, as if he's listening to the beat of her heart. He quickly drifts off to sleep. She carefully places Emerson next to Solomon. The little girl presses her hand against her chest.


	31. No Similarities

The door to her room is cracked, and she hears a familiar set of footsteps pacing outside the door. She takes a deep breath, and calls out.

"You can come back in," she tells him.

She watches as he pushes the door open. He enters the room. He takes a seat next to her, on the edge of the bed. He leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"You did good," he reminds her.

She doesn't say anything in response. She doesn't meet his glance. He finds her focused on the two tiny bodies lying on her chest. He studies her facial expression. He wishes that she would tell him what she's thinking. He does his best to decipher her thoughts by reading her face. Her eyes are heavy, and dark. Her skin has a pallor to it that he hasn't noticed before. The dark circles under her eyes contrast the stark color of her face. The wrinkles on her forehead seem more cavernous that he recalls. The lines around her mouth seem more pronounced too. He determines that what he's seeing may be a lack of emotion. She doesn't look happy, or overtly sad. Instead she appears numb. He decides to interrupt whatever internal dialogue is playing out in her head at present.

"Do you want me to take one of them?"

"No," she says in a subdued tone.

"Mac?"

"Hm?" She refuses to make eye contact.

"Are you okay?"

She refuses to answer. She simply stares at the newborn babies lying against her chest.

"Sarah?"

She exhales, "I don't know," she admits.

"Talk to me," he begs.

"This is supposed to be complete bliss," she points out.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees.

"I don't know that I would call what I'm feeling bliss."

"What would you call it?"

Her chin tilts upwards in his direction. Finally she makes eye contact, "I don't know."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I think that they don't look much like me," she says the first thing that comes to her mind.

"Look change."

She swallows hard, "And they don't look like you either."

"That's okay."

Her jaw tightens, and her nostrils flare. She grimaces at the thoughts spinning around in her head. Finally she verbalizes how she's truly feeling, "No, it's not."

"Tell me why not?"

She swallows hard. She looks at them, and then looks at him with tear filled eyes. "Because they're not yours."

"You don't know that for sure," he argues.

"I think that we both knew that paternity would be fairly obvious at birth."

"Maybe you're just seeing what you expect to see."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"All along you have thought that they weren't mine," he reminds her.

"Because they're not."

"How can you be so certain?"

"They don't have any of your features, and…" she trails off as the tears begin to trail down her face.

"Say it," he prompts her.

"I can't," the tears sting her cheeks. Without a word he wipes the tears from her face. He wraps his arm around her.

"It doesn't matter to me."

"You say that now, but…"

He cuts her off, "Don't go down that road, okay?"

"How can I not?"

"I meant what I said. I am not going anywhere. I am going to see this through."

"You have no biological obligation."

"When have you ever known me to do something out of obligation?"

"Legally we're separated."

"Is that what you want?"

"Right now I don't know what I want."

He takes a deep breath, and decides to push her out of her comfort zone, "Mac, you don't have to do this. If you don't want to do this no one is saying that you have to. I can have the nurseries cleared out before you get home."

"That's not what I want."

"What do you want?"

"I want them."

"Are you sure? Don't tell me what you think that I want to hear. Don't say it because you feel obligated to. Right now I need you to be honest with me."

"I want them," she repeats, "I thought that I…" her breath hitches.

"That you wouldn't?"

She nods subtly, "They're mine."

"All yours."

"So the rest doesn't matter."

"I want to help you. Please let help you," he begs.

"Are you sure?"

"Sarah, I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

"It doesn't mean…"

He cuts her off, "It means that I am helping you raise them."

"How am I supposed to explain this?"

"Allow people to think what they want, because they will anyway."

"The DNA results will be in tomorrow."

"So for today let's just enjoy the fact that you brought two new lives into the world."

She nods in agreement.

"One question, though."

"Hm?"

"Is this how it is going to be all of the time?"

She furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"

"Are you going to hog them all the time?"

"Probably."

"You've had them for nine months, I think they'll be okay if I take them for a few minutes."

"I don't want to wake them," she argues.

"Please," he begs.

"One of them," she relents.

He picks up the baby closest to him. He wraps Solomon in his receiving blanket.

"Mac are you going to give them middle names? Or are we just going to stick with Solomon, and Emerson?"

"I already picked out middle names," she reveals.

"When?"

"When you were in the hallway," she admits.

"So what are they?"

"Emerson Amani, and Solomon Jase."


	32. Professional Help

He tries to slip the two newborns out of her arms as she sleeps soundly. As he touches the first baby her eyes fly open. He exhales, sighing in defeat.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he admits.

"They're fine," she responds.

"Sarah you can't hold them all night," he insists.

"I just don't want to let them out of my sight."

"They will be okay," he promises.

"I don't know if I can sleep without them," she reveals.

"So you plan to spend the next eighteen years with them sleeping with you?"

She shakes her head, "Maybe just the first five or so."

"You are being unreasonable."

"I don't want to send them back to the nursery."

"They aren't going back to the nursery. They will be right here."

"Then why does it matter?"

"Because you're exhausted."

"I _was_ asleep until you woke me up."

"Hey mama bear, give them to me."

She frowns, and breaks eye contact. She shifts her glance to the two babies sleeping peacefully on her chest. He carefully peels a soft warm body from her chest. He carefully re-swaddles the little boy, and returns him to his basinet. He repeats this process with Emerson. He situates their basinets between his chair, and her bed. She scoots over in the bed. He takes a seat next to her, on the edge of the bed. He squeezes her hand, and presses his lips to her forehead.

"Go to sleep."

"I don't know if I can," she tells him.

"You can't go eighteen years without any sleep," he points out.

"I don't want to miss anything."

"How can you miss anything? They eat every two hours, and you are their source of food."

"What if…."

He cuts her off, "I know that you find this difficult to believe, but I am capable of taking care of another human being. I know how to change a diaper. You have got to get some sleep. You can't worry about them all of the time."

"It's my duty to worry about them."

"Don't martyr yourself," he warns.

"You don't understand."

"Enlighten me," he whispers.

"I don't sleep well. I haven't for quite some time, and only part of it is me worrying about them."

"And the other part?"

She makes eye contact for a brief moment. She shifts her glance to the clock on the wall. He watches as her body tenses. Her jaw tightens, and she purses her lips.

"Mac?"

"I would call them nightmares, but that isn't entirely accurate."

"Then what are they?"

"Flashbacks."

"So that's why you wake up screaming out of a dead sleep?"

She nods, "Yes."

"Sarah are you sure that you want to do this?"

"You are questioning my ability to take care of them?"

"I am not questioning your ability."

"Then what are you questioning?"

"Your desire."

"My desire? One day I woke up, and I went into an empty nursery. I resolved myself to the fact that I was never going to hold a baby in my arms that I could call my own. Worse than that, I came to the realization that I was never going to carry a child of my own. I didn't think that I would ever get the opportunity to feel a baby move inside my womb. I thought that I closed that chapter of my life. The day that I found out I was pregnant I was completely… lost. I felt so conflicted because finally I had gotten what I wanted for so long. In the same moment I wondered if it was a punishment for a life full of mistakes. I can admit that there were a lot of days that I felt conflicted about my decision."

"How do I know that you are doing this because you want them, and not out of some twisted sense of duty that you have always felt?"

"How can you even ask me that?" She blinks away tears.

"My questions are no harsher than the ones that they are going to ask you someday."

She takes a deep breath, and a moment to think before she answers, "I have always wanted them."

"Mac the road that you are going down is incredibly complicated."

"Hasn't it always been?"

"I don't doubt that you love them."

She swallows hard, "You just doubt that me raising them is the right thing. You doubt that it is the best thing for them?"

He nods subtly, "Can you blame me? How do you expect them to look at them every single day for the rest of your life, and not be reminded of that night? I am not saying that it can't be done, but…"

She interrupts, "You just don't think that I can am capable of doing it?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to, your face said it for you."

"You have been through so much. I just don't want you to…" he trails off.

"Punish them for the sins of the father?"

"Something like that," he nods.

"Why is it that you have so little faith in me?"

"I have the utmost faith in you."

"Then why are you questioning me?"

"Because of your lack of faith in yourself."

"Bullshit," her face grows red with anger.

"I am not saying that you can't do this, or that you shouldn't."

"Then what the hell are you saying?"

"It isn't going to be easy. I know you, and I know how you have a tendency to push people away. You can't do this on your own. You need help. You need be able to talk to someone."

"I am talking to you, but I am beginning to think that maybe that has all been a mistake."

"I didn't mean me."

"Then what did you mean?"

"A professional. Sarah you need to talk to a professional who can help you sort through all of your feelings."

"Now you're questioning my feelings?"

"What are you feeling?"

"Annoyed. I don't want to look back on this day, and only be able to recall the conflict surrounding it."

"Sarah, I just…"

"You don't know me as well as you think that you do."

"I know how much you hate asking for help."


	33. Stiff Upper Lip

"Do you know how many hours of counseling I've had over the past months?"

He shrugs.

"Over a hundred hours," she reveals.

"Oh."

"You assumed that number was closer to zero, didn't you?"

"Yes," he admits.

"I am not naïve enough to think that this will be easy. I am not foolish enough to think that I am not going to have feelings that I will need help dealing with."

"Are you okay?"

"No," she admits as the tears begin to free-fall.

"So talk to me. I'm right here."

"I am not okay. This should be the best day of my entire life. I have never wanted anything more than I want them. I should feel nothing but sheer joy, and happiness."

"What do you feel?"

"Uncertain. I feel as if I have this huge cloud hanging over my head. I look at them, and in my heart I know what the DNA results are going to say. I can't help but pray that I am wrong. I need to know the truth."

"Is the truth going to change how you feel about them? You have spent your entire pregnancy believing that they're not mine. If that is really true is it going to change the way that you feel about them?"

"No," she replies undoubtedly.

"Then forget the fact that there was a DNA test done," he suggests.

"That is easier said than done."

"I need to ask you something that has been on my mind for some time."

"It's not like you to hold back."

"I didn't want to…"

She rolls her eyes, "Sailor, you do not have to tread lightly. You don't need to treat me as if I am going to break. I fallen apart more times than I can count, and I always manage to pull myself back together."

"It's not so much about you as it is me."

"Just ask," she prods.

"Do you blame me?"

She furrows her brow, "For what?"

"For what happened?"

"Why would I blame you?" She answers him with a look of disbelief on her face.

"I wasn't there. I…"

"Do you blame you?"

"I could have stopped it."

"It doesn't matter now," she insists.

"You know we dance around it all, but we never really talk about it."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Harriet told me you went back to work after three days."

* * *

_She pulls on her uniform as she's done thousands of times before. Today it takes her longer than usual. She struggles to button her top. Her hands shake, and her mind races. She takes a deep breath, and grips the counter. She stands in her bathroom, in front of the mirror. She takes a deep breath, and forces herself to take a look at the reflection in the mirror. Today is the first day that she's actually been able to look at herself. She carefully, and methodically brushes her hair. Her arms ache, and her head throbs. Her eyes shift to her face as she lifts the bottle of concealer off the counter. _

_ Her face is bruised. It is covered in abrasions. She has a few stitches. Her eye is black, and her lip is still misshapen from being busted. She carefully applies the concealer, in an attempt to hide all of her injuries. She does the best that she is capable of. Unfortunately there is no amount of make up to cover up the truth. The stitches near her eyebrow stick out like a marine in a sea of naval officers. _

_ She hears rustling outside the bathroom door. She reaches forward for the loaded nine millimeter Glock to her right. Her heart skips a beat. She feels her pulse quicken, and her breathing suddenly shallow. A pair of brown eyes stare up at her, and she lowers her weapon._

"_Sydney," she sighs in relief. The dog wags her tail, and takes a seat next to her. _

_ She walks into the office earlier than usual. She hopes to avoid all of the stares, and questions. She makes a beeline for her office. Soon she has to face reality as she calls her team into the office. They stand at attention, unable to take their eyes off her face._

"_Ma'am?" One of them begins._

"_I was in a car accident," she lies, "I am fine."_

* * *

"It wasn't as if I could sit inside that house, and feel sorry for the rest of my life."

"Three days…"

"One more day would have killed me."

"You sound pretty certain about that."

"I don't think that I have ever felt so hopeless in my entire life. I had my sense of security stripped from me. Any dignity that I may have had disappeared at the emergency room entrance. The garage was a crime scene, and my car was taken as evidence."

"I wish that I had been here."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like that."

"I am sorry that I walked out. You have no idea…"

She cuts him off, "Save it, please."

He nods, "Okay."

"You should probably go home and get some rest," she suggests.

He furrows his brow, "I'm not leaving you."

"And take a shower."

"I am not going anywhere. I will be right over there in that chair when you wake up."

"Who said that I am going to sleep?"

"You have plenty of sleepless nights ahead of you."

She looks past him. He turns his head and follows her line of sight. His eyes fall on a pair of sleeping babies.

"I'll stay up with them if it will make you feel better, even though they are both sound asleep."

"What if they wake up?"

"I find it incredibly hard to believe that you would sleep through that."

"You said it yourself, I'm exhausted."

"You're also a marine, a light sleeper, and a first time mom. You won't sleep through them crying."

He returns to the chair beside her bed. He flips off the light, and hopes that she'll fall asleep. The light from her IV pump is just enough to illuminate the babies faces.


	34. Wings

She wakes up, and surveys her surroundings in an attempt to orient herself to her new reality. She looks to her left, and finds one basinet with a sleeping baby. The one next to it is empty. She allows her eyes to shift to the chair beside her bed. She finds Harm sitting in the chair, sound asleep with a tiny human pressed against his chest. She grins at the sight. He wears a pair of jeans, and a white v-neck t-shirt. Emerson rests with her ear against his chest.

Sarah quietly reaches for the bedside table. She grabs the camera off the surface of the table, and turns it on. She snaps a picture of the two, hoping that it won't wake them. She sees a set of eyes pop open, but not the pair that she expects. A little boy looks up at her. She quickly snaps a picture of him, and scoops him out of his basinet. She kisses his warm cheeks. She peels the blue cap off his head.

She marvels at how round his head is. He has a thin layer of dark hair. She pets his tiny nose. His arm wiggles loose despite the fact that he is tightly swaddled. He inserts his second and third finger into his mouth. She grabs his pacifier out of the basinet, and swaps it for his fingers. He sucks on the pacifier a few times, and then spits it out. He searches for his mouth with his right hand.

"Solomon it is not time to eat yet," she tells him as she returns the pacifier to his mouth. He spits the pacifier out in disapproval. He looks up at her with bright eyes. "I understand that the pacifier is not what you want, but I certainly can't cut your fingers off. I can throw the pacifier away." He protests by sticking his thumb in his mouth. She carefully unwraps him. His face puckers as the cold air hits him. She notices the blue strip on his diaper.

She realizes that thus far Harm has insisted on changing all of the diapers, since it is the one task he can actually do. She grabs a diaper, and some wipes. She knows that she will have to be quick in her endeavor. She succeeds in changing the wet diaper, and replacing it with a fresh one without getting peed on. She is unsuccessful in preventing him from crying. She quickly swaddles him in the receiving blanket, and puts him over her shoulder to pat him. He quiets within seconds, but she quickly learns that she is not the only light sleeper in the room. He's hovering over her before she has even realized he is awake. She looks up at Harm, who stands beside the bed holding Emerson. He scowls at her.

"What did you do to him?"

"I just changed his diaper."

"You're not supposed to make him cry."

"He's fine," she insists as she shifts the baby into her arm.

"You made him mad," he points to the baby's face.

She kisses his tiny cheek, "He's okay," she comments as his look of irritation disappears.

"I think that he's hungry."

"It won't be time for ten more minutes."

"What is ten minutes?"

"I would like to keep them on a schedule. Otherwise things will get out of hand. She won't be ready to eat for another ten minutes."

"Maybe you should give him the pacifier."

"I tried that," she growls, "he won't take it. Apparently his fingers taste better."

"We can't saw his fingers off and throw them away."

"I realize that. You try to convince him to take the pacifier."

"Trade?"

She nods in agreement. He places Emerson into her right arm, and removes Solmon from her left. He grabs the green pacifier, and places it in his mouth. Solomon takes two sucks, and spits it out. It falls onto the ground. Mac smirks.

"So much for that idea."

She looks at the little girl in her right arm.

"Hey pretty girl do you think you want to wake up?" She kisses her face.

The little girl squirms, "You don't squirm when he kisses you."

Her eyes pop open. "I think she likes my scruff," Harm comments.

She stares up at Mac, "Do you like his scruff? Huh?"

Mac notices that the baby girl's hat is on crooked. She peels it off her head, and finds a bow in her mess of hair. She cocks an eyebrow, and shifts her glance to Harmon.

"How did that get there?"

"I found it in the diaper bag, and she begged me to put it in there."

"She begged you? Sound as if she's already got you wrapped around her finger."

"I don't know what you're talking about.

Sarah studies the newborn's hair. She furrows her brow, "Did you brush her hair?"

"They're going to get pictures today, and…"

She cuts him off, "What else should I know?"

He falls silent. She stares at him suspiciously, and then proceeds to unwrap the baby girl. She finds that her newborn daughter's white long-sleeved, side button, t-shirt has been replaced with a ruffled pink dress, and a tiny pair of tights.

"I haven't gotten the chance to change him yet," he admits.

"Harm, I don't remember packing this dress."

"I may have thrown it in there last minute."

"There wasn't any room in the bag," she recalls.

"I had to rearrange a few things."

"I had their outfits picked out."

"There were some last minute changes."

"What did you bring for him to wear?"

He grins, and reaches for the diaper bag. He pulls out a uniform, and holds it up for her to see. She stares at the sailor suit in disbelief.

"Please tell me that I do not see wings on the lapel of his sailor suit."

"I have no comment."

"You pinned wings onto his outfit?"

"No I didn't pin them."

"There are wings on his sailor suit," she cries in outrage.

"I was afraid a pin would poke him. I had to make some adjustments. It's just a little velcro."


	35. Evidence

The nurse enters the room with a clipboard tucked under her arm. She approaches Mac. Harm slips the baby out of her arm. Her focus shifts to the look on the nurse's face. She pulls up a chair, and takes a seat next to Mac.

"DNA results?" Mac guesses.

"Yes," she confirms, "Where would you like me to begin?"

"It doesn't matter," Mac insists.

"Are you sure that you don't want to do this privately?" The nurse questions.

"He can stay."

"Okay," she nods.

"You received all of the DNA test results?"

"Yes. Do you want me to begin with who was ruled out for paternity?"

Harm speaks up, "Are they mine?"

The nurse focuses on Mac. She tries to read her facial expression. "Are they?" she questions.

"The DNA test determined that you do not share genetic information with either of them," she answers, sticking to the facts.

He nods, "Okay."

Mac turns to Harm. He places Emerson in her basinet.

"Why don't you go downstairs and get some coffee?" She suggests.

"I…"

She cuts him off, "Please."

"Okay," he agrees reluctantly. He leaves the room, and slowly makes his way to the elevator. The nurse flips through the remaining pages. She squeezes Sarah's hand.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'm ever going to be," Mac confirms.

She pulls two sheets of paper off the clipboard, and hands them to Mac. Mac reads each one of them carefully word for word. She memorizes every line.

"Okay," she hands them back to the nurse.

"I am supposed to forward these to an attorney, correct?"

"Yes."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Do you want me to stay in here with you for a while?"

"No."

"If you want I can…"

"I just need a few minutes," Sarah explains.

"Do you want me to take them to the nursery?"

"No."

"Okay," the nurse nods in agreement, and then reluctantly leaves the room.

Sarah watches the nurse as she walks away. She hears the door close, and she shifts into a sitting position. She scoots to the edge of the bed. She pulls the basinets closer. She stares at the babies inside. Her heart sinks as the reality sets in. Her heart skips a beat, knowing that she was wrong all along. The babies sleep peacefully. The numbness she wants to feel quickly disappears. Her emotions envelope her. She swallows hard, and tears begin to stumble from her eyes down her cheeks. She hears the door open, but she doesn't move. The footsteps approach her, but she doesn't flinch. She doesn't look up when he stops next to the bed. He places the cup of coffee on the bedside table. Without a word he takes a seat next to her. He places his arm around her shoulder. He squeezes her to his side. She wears a hospital gown, and her dark hair is combed into a sloppy ponytail. He plants a kiss on her forehead. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, and finally meets his glance.

The fear stumbles from her lips before she can stop it, "What if I can't do this? What if loving them isn't enough?"

"What if it is?"

"I don't want a bullshit answer," she growls.

"What if you can't love them enough? What if you screw them up so badly that they can't be fixed? Is that what you're worried about?"

"Yes."

"Sarah, if you don't think that you can overcome what happened then you should walk away."

"What if I can't love them unconditionally? I don't want to become my mother."

"Do you want these babies?"

"Yes."

"Do you love them?"

"Yes, but what if I don't love them enough? What if I start to resent them? What if what happened is reflected in the way that I treat them? Maybe I was wrong to think that I could do this. Maybe it is too much to ask."

"That's okay."

"No it's not," she argues.

"Mac, who are you trying to convince here?"

"What would happen if I decided to walk away right now?"

"You can't go anywhere right now, you're tethered to an IV pole."

"What would happen to them?"

"Someone would love them."

"Who? Who would raise them? I don't know if I would trust anyone."

"I will do it."

She furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"

"I'll do it. I will raise them."

"You aren't their father. You contributed no…"

He cuts her off, "They're mine. From the second that I laid eye on them they were mine. Did you not feel the same way?"

"Yes," she answers just above a whisper.

"For once in your life let me help you."

"I… I don't know what I'm feeling right now. I hate this. I don't like feeling so out of control. I have all these emotions, and all of these damn hormones. I feel overwhelmed."

He grins at her, but remains silent. He stands up, and retrieves Solomon from his basinet. He places the baby boy in Sarah's arms. She takes a deep breath, and stares at her son's face. Her heart rate begins to decrease.

"Solomon," she whispers. His eyes flutter open. He stares up at her with slate colored eyes.

Harmon retreats to another corner of the room with Emerson. He settles in his seat with the little girl. Mac swings her legs back into the bed. She stretches her legs out, and lays Solomon in front of her. She quietly unwraps the newborn, and lifts him to her chest. He seems content to be chest to chest with her.

"Solomon," she whispers again.

His head moves in an uncoordinated effort, with control rivaling that of an elderly man with Parkinsonian tremors. His head lifts off her chest for a brief moment, as he searches for the sound of her voice. Soon he settles down, pressing his ear against her chest wall. As he listens to the rhythm of her heartbeat he begins to drift off.


	36. Let Him Live

He rolls over, and finds the bed empty. He glances at the alarm clock on her bedside stand. He vacates the bed, and exits the room. He heads down the hall to the nursery. He finds her sitting in a chair holding two babies, patting them back to sleep.

"Do you want me to take one of them?"

"My arms are falling asleep," she admits.

He scoops up the little boy in her arms, and pats him back to sleep. He kisses his cheeks, and returns him to his crib. She slowly rises from her seat. She joins him in front of the crib. She places Emerson next to her brother. For several moments they stand in front of the crib, just marveling at them.

"How is this even possible? We barely sleep, and are covered in someone else's bodily fluids most of the time, and I don't know that I have ever felt happier, or more fulfilled," Mac admits.

"It's because they are so sweet, and probably because we are both delirious from lack of sleep."

"It all feels like a dream. Having them here just feels like a dream. Every day when I wake up, I just can't believe that they're here."

"You know tomorrow they'll be eight weeks old."

"They are almost sleeping through the night, now," she adds.

"Are you taking them out in the morning?"

"I am just going to leave them here with you. The three of you will still be asleep when I wake up for the day."

"We should get back to bed," he suggests.

"Harm?"

"Hmm?"

"I was informed that he filed a motion for visitation," she begins.

"I hope that the judge didn't grant it."

"The judge responded by suggesting that he surrender his parental rights."

"What was his response?"

"He didn't get a chance to respond."

Harmon furrows his brow, "Why not?"

"This afternoon they found him stabbed to death in the shower."

"Who stabbed him?"

"Seth."

The following afternoon Mac is sitting on the back porch with one baby sleeping in a bouncy seat on the table, and the other in her arms, wide awake. Harm pulls open the door, and steps outside. He takes a seat next to her. He motions for her to pass Solomon to him. She furrows her brow.

"Seth sent you a letter," he informs her.

She carefully hands Solomon to him. He trades the baby for a letter.

"You don't have to read it," he points out.

She opens the envelope, and begins to read. She chooses to read it aloud.

"Dear Miss McKenzie, I am writing you this letter to apologize. Joe and I made some very unfortunate decisions under the influence of drugs, and alcohol. If it weren't for him I never would have done such a thing. Joe pushed me into doing things that I didn't want to, but ultimately we are both responsible for our actions. He can't seem to come to terms with this fact. He is immature and refuses to take responsibility, or admit wrong-doing. He is still full of anger, and a sense of vengeance. He wants it at any cost. He has never care who he hurts, or whose lives he destroys, even if they are the lives of two innocent children. I feel that it is time I make things right. Sincerely, Seth."

"I think that is a confession," Harm responds.

"He will get the death penalty. It was premeditated," Mac points out.

"He was trying to right the wrong that he made," Harm adds.

"You should represent him," Mac replies, surprisingly.

"Represent him? I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him."  
"Argue for a concurrent life sentence, instead of the death penalty."

"Sarah do you want leniency, or are you saying this out of vengeance? Do you want him to suffer for the rest of his life in a prison cell?"

"I cannot condone what he did to Joe, or anyone else. I don't think that I will ever be prepared to forgive him for what he did to me," she blinks away tears, "but he ended the nightmare in a way that I couldn't. He tried to make amends by preventing my children from being victims of circumstances beyond their control. There was a time when that I wished both of them dead."

"But?"

"He certainly does not deserve to die for taking the life of a man who was a monster. He does not deserve to die, when he was trying to protect my children from the clutches of a monster."


End file.
